


Lost Apprentices

by DeeNomilk



Series: Tashok the Dragonborn [26]
Category: Elder Scrolls, Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Genre: College of Winterhold - Freeform, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Mild Angst, Winterhold, missing apprentices, there are tears but also hugs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-18
Updated: 2020-05-31
Packaged: 2021-02-27 14:21:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 29,147
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22298485
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DeeNomilk/pseuds/DeeNomilk
Summary: Tashok and Orthorn leave the College in search for his previous fellow apprentices.
Series: Tashok the Dragonborn [26]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1272734
Comments: 14
Kudos: 12





	1. Borvir

**Author's Note:**

> I always get sad playing this quest. Time for some projection!
> 
> Oh and some Orthorn backstory there's some of that too.

Tashok runs through her list of items packed, careful that none are forgotten left behind, when Inigo comes into their shared quarters.

“Are we going somewhere, my friend?” Inigo asks.

“No, no. Just me.” Tashok smiles. “Well, and Orthorn. It’s just a bit of a side-errand… It seems some members of the College have been missing for a while.”

“Have they been taken for ransom?” Inigo's brows furrow. “Are you sure you don’t wish for me to come with you?”

“Don’t worry… We're not sure where they are yet, but it could just be that they forgot to check in.”

“And you believe that yourself and the other mage can find them on your own?”

“I don’t plan on being gone too long. You should rest here. I’d hate to disrupt your small vacation with my responsibilities.” Tashok slips her large pack over her shoulders, ignoring the ache building in her left shoulder. Despite being healed, it’s range of motion is still low, and is easily aggravated. “I’m sure the children would like to have you around too…”

“As you wish.” Inigo concedes, though he looks rather unhappy with Tashok leaving without him. “Stay safe... my friend.”

Tashok gives him the most reassuring smile she can muster and heads to their meeting point inside the Hall of Countenance. There, she sees Orthorn, his bag, while smaller than hers, packed and by his side as he waits by the magical pool anxiously.

“Ready to go?” she asks despite it being obvious that he is.

“I am!” he immediately picks up his pack. “Or, at least I think I am. I don’t go out on adventures, well… ever.”

“I wish that were the case for me…” Tashok chuckles. “Maybe once everything is taken care of I can… Be home, tend to my garden and spend time with my kids…”

She opens the door to the courtyard, letting Orthorn exit first and following close behind.

“You… don’t like adventuring?” Orthorn turns to her.

“It’s… It’s fine, really.” Tashok hesitates. “I quite like getting to see so many places, meet people. It’s just that, well, I have children now.”

She spares a glance towards the main tower of the College, where her children are no doubt still playing. Soon, however, it disappears behind the College walls as they near the bottom of the somewhat repaired bridge. It still looks dreadful and broken, with the missing chunks having been replaced with wooden paneling, but at least no one can fall off by accident.

“I’m worried I don’t spend enough time with them.” Tashok admits. “It used to be just Sofie and I. And I spent most of my time running around trying to save money so I could buy a house for her. And by the time I did get the house, well… I’d met even more children who needed a family.”

“It was very kind of you to take them in.” Orthorn remarks.

“I mean, sure, in practice… But… Well — I’m gone most of the time. I remember how it felt to have a home, but where none of the adults enough time for you… They deserve a parent who’s there for them, you know?”

“Is that why you brought them here with you?”

Tashok considers this.

“No… They insisted on coming. Guess that proves my point… Wait!” Tashok brings her hand up to her mouth. “It’s not inappropriate to bring them all here, is it?”

“Uh…” Orthorn hesitates before shrugging. “I don’t know? You’re the Arch-Mage here. I don’t think anyone’s going to complain.”

“Well yes, not to me. But what if it bothers them, and they _want_ to complain?”

“Um…” Orthorn isn’t too sure how to answer Tashok's somewhat irrational concerns. She seems to notice this and turns away quickly.

“Sorry, I’m rambling.” Tashok thankfully ends the conversation.

Orthorn laughs nervously, happy that his input isn’t strictly necessary. They’re almost halfway across town when an elderly woman approaches them furiously. Or rather, as furiously as she can considering her slow gait and the heavy snow between them.

“You damned mages better not be stirring any trouble!” she shakes her fist. “It’s barely morning yet and I won’t stand for your nonsense!”

“Good morning to you too, ma’am.” Tashok lets out a small amused puff of air. “No trouble, just looking for some colleagues.”

“Oh, it’s you.” the woman notes, looking Tashok up and down before turning her attention to Orthorn. “And the quiet one.”

“Um…” is all Orthorn manages to reply.

“Enid, darling, leave the mages alone!” another woman, this one Tashok knows as Dinah, approaches them with the same speed as the previous. “They’ve been good for a while.”

“Good morning, Dinah.” Tashok greets her.

“Enid! You’ve been harassing our Thane?!” Dinah looks aghast. She turns to Tashok, hand to her chest. “I’m so sorry dearie…”

“I just don’t want those mages to cause trouble.” Enid huffs. “I may be old but even my memory can go one month back in time…”

“I know darling.” Dinah rolls her eyes.

“Honestly I was just minding my own business… Knitting a scarf for little Olli since the winter’s real harsh out there on the sea, then BOOM! Next thing I know there’s some nasty floating teeth hackin’ at the guards!”

“I know, darling.”

“We’re very sorry about that, again.” Tashok brings her hands together apologetically. “It was a combination of a lot of unfortunate things coming together all at once.”

“Bah, heard you gave that Thalmor a good beating…” Dinah smirks. “You’ve made up for any mistake you could have made.”

“Oh… I…” Tashok shrinks on herself, looking away.

“While we have you here, you should bring that warming cream of yours to Birna’s.” Enid pats her on the elbow. “It does wonders to my joints.”

“Do they get worse during the winter?” Tashok jumps on the opportunity to veer the conversation somewhere safe.

“Of course they do.”

“I could check this out next time I’m around. Maybe ask Colette to help me out… I might be able to make something for the pain, specifically.”

“You can do that?” Dinah looks quite impressed.

“That’d be appreciated.” Enid lightens up at the prospect.

“You’re such a smart lass!” Dinah smiles at her while taking Enid’s arm, leading her away. “Don’t let us keep you. I’m sure you’re quite busy.”

“I’ll make time! Goodbye!” Tashok leans forwards was she waves.

Tashok takes a deep breath, enjoying the cold morning air as the snow around them falls in earnest. She turns back towards the city’s gates and notes Orthorn looks rather amused.

“What?” she turns around. Perhaps he saw a chicken run headfirst into a post?

When she turns back to him his mirth is slightly dampened into something more like understanding.

“I think I get why you’re always so busy now…” he says.

“What? What do you mean?” she begins walking again.

“You’re already head over heels with potions, yet you just took on another project.” Orthorn explains as he matches her pace.

“Wh-uh-b-ah—!” Tashok chokes on air. “She’s in pain! And an old woman! An old woman in pain!” she waves her hands around wildly as she defends herself. “I can’t not do something!”

Orthorn regards her silently, a hint of a smile still on his face before he speaks again.

“That’s kind of you.” he pauses. “I think I see why everyone is so eager to have you as the Arch-Mage.”

Tashok deflates, and all the ease Orthorn had been feeling deflated with her. He wants to open his mouth to speak, to apologize perhaps, but he isn’t sure if that’s the right course of action. Or even what he said that caused this.

He knows, rationally that it’s not his fault. He’s seen the Arch-Mage shrink down while talking to just about everyone at the College.

“Everyone but me…” she mumbles, looking out over the Sea of Ghosts as it comes into view.

“What?” Orthorn isn’t sure he understood properly.

“I would’ve liked staying an apprentice.” Tashok admits. “Less… uh…”

“Pressure?” Orthorn offers.

“Yes that’s it!” Tashok whips around. “I’ve been a student of magic for what, a few months and now they expect me to run the place?”

“You saved it.”

“Not by myself! Why isn’t someone else named Arch-Mage?! Like J’Zarg…Oh, that wouldn’t be a good idea…” Tashok brings a hand to her cheek before glancing at Orthorn. “Still. Faralda would be a good candidate. Or Tolfdir... O-or honestly anyone else.”

“I was told a member of the Psiijic Order chose you?”

“Right! They let him pick _me_!” Tashok motions to herself dramatically. “He doesn’t even go here!”

Orthorn responds with a quick “I don’t know” sound and a shrug.

“Doesn’t matter. It’s done, right?” she doesn’t see him nod in agreement as her attention quickly shifts to something else. “Oh! Snowberries!”

She trots quickly towards a snowberry bush, taking off her gloves and tucking them under her shoulders before picking at the berries carefully. Halfway through this process she stops and begins frantically trying to open the satchel at her hips.

“Darn it…” she pouts. “H-hey, Orthorn?”

“Yes?” he takes a few tentative steps towards her.

“Would you mind holding this for a moment?” she drops the berries into his open palm. “Thanks!”

He stands stiff as a post, awkwardly waiting for Tashok to fish out an empty jar, which she immediately fills with the berries within his hand as well as the ones on the bush. Or rather, most of the ones on the bush. He isn’t sure whether the remaining ones are inadequate in her eyes, or if her hands are just too cold to carry picking at them. She slips her gloves on with rigid yet sluggish movements and stuff the jar back into her satchel.

A tilt of the head from her is all Orthorn needs to continue on their journey.

They walk in relative silence for some time as Tashok opens and closes her map in multiple attempts to orient herself. He hears her mumble about «all that blasted snow getting in the way» a few times before they reached what Orthorn believed to be the nearby mine.

“Oh, good!” Tashok sighs in relief. “Borvir is said to have reported here last. One of the guards brought back the information when his rounds were over. Let’s ask this one!”

Orthorn reaches out to stop her, fearful that the guard would react with hostility. A voice inside his mind reminds him that Tashok is the thane of the hold, and so the guards must answer to her. Stormcloak or not.

“Hail and well met!” she approaches the guard.

“What do you need?” the guard turns to her lazily. “D’you get lost? Winterhold’s that way.” he points towards the direction they came from. “Got an inn and some trade. Just follow the path.”

“I’m actually here looking for a member of the College.” Tashok explains. “He hasn’t checked in with us in some time and this was his last known location.”

“The College?” the guard’s demeanour shifts into wary, before immediately tensing farther. “By Ysmir, you’re the Thane, aren’t you? I’m sorry, I should’ve recognized you.”

“I’m not around all that often…” Tashok shrugs. “Some thane, uh?”

“Beh. S’far as I know you saved us already and deal with lots of problems around here…” the guard visibly relaxes and shifts his weight around. “How can I help you my thane? Do you want to interrogate the miners?”

“If they’re not too busy… You wouldn’t’ve seen the mage, right? He’s an alchemist. Human, I’m pretty sure.”

“I’m afraid not.” the guard leads them inside the mine, where the wind and cold isn’t nearly as overwhelming. “I was in Hjaalmarch until two weeks ago. Maybe the miners know something. Go ahead.”

He motions deeper into the mine and watches Tashok disappear behind the curve of a wall. Orthorn occupies himself by looking at a build-up of snow near his feet and kicking at it until the echoing voice of the guard jolts him back to the present.

“So who’re you supposed to be?” the guard asks him. He may not be trying to intimidate Orthorn, but his crossed arms and imposing presence does it anyways.

“M-me? I’m uh, I’m with the College too.” Orthorn says.

“I had no idea.” the guard’s voice drips with sarcasm. “I mean why are you here with the Thane?”

“I asked to join.” seems to be a safe answer.

“Did you now? Why would you do that?” apparently not a satisfying answer. “I’d figure your kind wouldn’t take too well to travelling across Skyrim… Especially now.”

“My…?” Orthorn isn’t sure if the guard is referring to the fact he’s an Altmer or a mage.

“Mages aren’t known for their endurance. Neither are High Elves.” it seems the guard had both traits in mind.

“I grew up here.” Orthorn says defensively. “Not, here-here. But in Skyrim.”

“That so?” the guard cocks his head.

“Yes.”

“Where from?”

It’s at this point that Orthorn realizes the guard’s intentions; vetting him to determine whether or not he’s secretly a Thalmor. His first instinct is to excuse himself and run back to Winterhold. Second instinct is to be angry that this guard decided that he seemed like an enemy. Rationality wins over both instincts, as neither of those reactions would bode well.

“Karthwasten.” he replies curtly.

“That’s in Imperial territory.” the guard adds.

“It is. Haven’t been there in some time, though.” Orthorn begins to feel uneasy. Quickly he thinks of a way to deflect the guard’s suspicion. “I’m not much of a miner. Or lumberjack. Or anything else it has to offer.”

“I’ll bet…” the guard’s attention is grabbed by the sound of rushing footsteps.

“They say he decided to make camp in a nearby ruin!” Tashok tells Orthorn, before glancing at the guard. “Any one you can think of?”

“Eh… I’m not sure about the name, but I saw one on my way here out in the distance… Do you have a map?”

“Yes, right here!”

“Good… I’d say it’s around here…” he points to a space in the map. “Be careful while walking around. There’s a lot of sudden drops once you head towards the sea.”

“Thank you, I’ll keep that in mind.” Tashok folds her map back and slips it inside her map holster.

She smiles to Orthorn on their way out.

“I think I know where it is…” she says. “I remember seeing a ruin when I was scavenging for ingredients.”

She leads him with a steady yet cautious pace, glancing around and down as she attempts to use the few landmarks visible through the heavy blanket of snow. Orthorn hides his face deeper into his scarf as the snowflakes begin to feel like small needles as they hit his cheeks.

Almost two hours into their endeavour that they reach what appears to be a small domed ruin. This one is in better shape than the others Orthorn has seen.

“Who’s there?” a feminine voice calls out as they approach.

“We’re looking for—” Tashok begins to explain their endeavour until she sees the woman. An archer wearing thick furs. She knows she’s an archer because the woman is currently readying her bow. “Now, now, we’re just looking for a colleague…”

Tashok steps between Orthorn and the stranger, hands raised in half-surrender.

“Mages, then.” the stranger grins wickedly, knocking her arrow. “Good, easy prey.”

“No, stop!” Tashok’s eyes widen as the arrow is let loose. She takes Orthorn by the front of his coat and throws him away from the range of fire as she instinctively summons her bow within her other hand.

“What the!” the bandit shouts, surprised by both the apparition of a new weapon and the speed at which the Orcish mage dodges her shot. “Stay still!”

The bandit shoots another arrow towards her, having mostly forgotten about the other mage. Which was a mistake as a lightning bolt strikes her at the side of her waist, throwing her off balance.

Tashok uses the opportunity to let her own arrow fly, hitting the bandit right into the chest. The pain is enough to make the woman drop her bow, clutching at the arrow weakly. Another flash of lightning erupts from Orthorn, sending the bandit dropping into the snow, unmoving.

“Are-are you okay…?” Tashok pants as she closes the distance between Orthorn and herself.

“Y-yeah…” he forces himself to steady his breath and allows Tashok to lightly run her fingers across his chest, arms and head, looking for injuries.

Once Tashok is satisfied, she backs up and looks wary.

“Do… Do you think Borvir was here?” she asks.

“I… I hope not…” Orthorn looks to the ruins, the bandit laying dead at the entrance. “One way to find out…”

He lets her take the lead once more, though her steps are hesitant. He hears her gasp when she sees a robed body with about six arrows lodged into the back laying face down. She kneels by his side, carefully removing the arrows so that they don’t take too much flesh with them along the way.

She notes bitterly that the mage’s body is stiff and cold. She turns him over gently, and Orthorn looks away immediately once he sees his face.

“It’s him.” he chokes out. 

“I’m sorry.” Tashok looks pained. “Let’s… grab his things. We should bring his body back… Find out where to send his remains.”

Orthorn bites his lip and gives the slightest of nods.

Neither of them thought the journey back could be worst than the way there, but it was.

Nighttime has already settled by the time they reach Winterhold, and Tashok is able to drop off Borvir’s body at the mortician’s place of business, having been given a key to various Winterhold buildings upon being made its thane.

“I-uh… I’ll tell Phinis about it tomorrow…” Tashok finally breaks the hours long silence.

“Right.” Orthorn replies numbly.

“I’ll be heading off again tomorrow.” she tells him. “I understand if you don’t want to come but…”

“I’ll be there.”

They stop in the courtyard, not quite looking at each other.

“Well, same time tomorrow then?” Tashok asks.

“Yes.” is Orthorn’s reply.

“Well, goodnight then…”

Both walk off with guilt weighing on them. Tashok for failing her colleague, Orthorn for being the one to remain unscathed.


	2. Rundi

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tashok frets over having to break the unfortunate news of Borvir's death to Rundi, while Orthorn doesn't think there's going to be any such conversation, if what he remembers of Rundi was accurate to the apprentice.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Nothing sets you back on your fanfic like food poisoning followed by almost 2 weeks of the flu. x_x I'm good now, don't need to sleep during my free time (hooyah!)
> 
> Also big hello to anyone from tumblr! Y'all gave me lots of support with my Inigo comic ^_^

This time it was Tashok waiting by the Hall of Countenance’s stairs, arms folded and head bowed in thought. Her frown doesn’t relax when Orthorn approaches her.

“Erm, morning.” he says.

“Hey.” she stands up straight. “I spoke with Phinis. They’ll send Borvir’s remains back to Morthal.”

“That’s…” Orthorn hesitates. “Good?”

“Would’ve been better if we’d found him alive.” Tashok. “Or if he hadn’t been sent on his own…”

“I know.”

Tashok glances at Orthorn, who looks about as glum as she does.

“Sorry.” she sighs. “I know you’re sad about him too. Probably more than I am.”

Orthorn shrugs silently, looking around until Tashok speaks up.

“We’re going to look for Rundi.” she says. “From what I heard he didn’t quite go as far as Borvir. I’m not surprised we didn’t see him with yesterday’s heavy snowfall, but hopefully now we can see farther than before.”

He follows her out of the College as they retrace most of yesterday’s steps. He begins to fall behind her by quite a few meters as his eyes trail on the undertaker’s facilities. When he turns back, ready to undoubtedly jog after her, he notes she’s stopped and waiting for him with a muted chagrined expression.

“Let’s go find his brother.” she says bleakly. “I was told he made camp by some sort of altar. Not the best spot for a shelter if I'm honest, unless it’s against a ledge, or something like that.”

Orthorn has the sinking feeling that if Borvir isn’t alive, especially since _he_ had found a proper camp. If so, Rundi has even less chances of survival. He’s not sure if Rundi knows how to build himself a shelter… Surely he must, being a Nord and whatnot.

“How am I going to break the news to him?” Tashok rubs her temples. “No matter how often I have to tell people the bad news it never gets easier…”

“I… I could do it.” Orthorn offers with the impression he most likely won’t have to. “I don’t mind.”

“Are you sure?” Tashok looks to him like he’s just handed her a glass of water in the desert.

“Yes. Besides, isn’t better if it comes from someone he knows?”

“Yeah…” Tashok’s mood lifts marginally. “Yes you’re right! Thank you.”

She eyes the distance before smiling with the most visor Orthorn has seen since the previous day’s discovery.

“Come on. I can actually see things more than a few feet away now…” she beckons him to follow.

It’s true. The sky isn’t visible but the overhead clouds mercifully aren’t dropping any more snowflakes down on them. As such he can even see the mountain holding the mine they visited, though he plans on keeping his distance from it as well as its guard.

“Um… Arch-Mage?” he asks.

“Please…” Tashok gripes. “Just use my name.”

“Alright, Tashok.” the use of her name is much less awkward than he expected. “I wanted to ask you something yesterday… Actually the day before but it doesn’t matter. It didn’t feel right after we found Borvir but… I was wondering if you’d let me help you with the potions order?”

“Of course! I could use the help, actually…” Tashok laughs derisively. “Don’t know why… I used to be better at going through big orders like this… But yes! I’d love the assistance! I didn’t know you liked alchemy.”

“I’m not exactly… Um… I don’t think I’d be really useful at making the potions. But I could go get your ingredients! Bring them back to you and carry messages. Like an assistant?”

“That'd help too. Unfortunately some of the ingredients I need aren’t, um… Readily available for harvesting here. I don’t think you’ll fancy running across Skyrim to hunt mudcrabs, bears and saber cats… You’ll need to see Faralda about how much money we can put into the ingredients while still making a profit. I could also tell Kai to have his soldiers bring some during their next rotation…”

She continues to blabber about the different things they could do to achieve peak potion-making efficiency, occasionally looking about for landmarks and leading Orthorn off the path.

“I never asked…” she says eventually, turning halfway to look at him. “How was your trip back to Winterhold?”

“My trip?” Orthorn blinks owlishly.

“From the first time we met.” Tashok clarifies. “You didn’t want to come with us.”

“Oh that… I uh… It went alright, all things considered…”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, the war, for one… Even without it looming over all of us travelling alone in Skyrim isn’t exactly safe.”

“So…” Tashok’s eyes break away before settling back on him. “Why didn’t you want to travel with us? We would’ve kept you safe. Even if we took a detour through Morthal…”

“Why didn’t I… Oh, hum… Right that.” Orthorn’s mouth twitches into a thin line as his eyes wander aimlessly. “Funny that.”

He looks to Tashok, who returns his gaze calmly as she waits.

“I was scared, I suppose?” Orthorn tries. He lets out a chuckle as Tashok’s brow rises incredulously. “I know. I understand now I didn’t really have anything to be afraid of; you’re all rather laid-back… Even J’Zargo. I just, didn’t want to have to explain myself… I was worried you’d ask me questions I wasn’t ready to answer.”

“Oh, I know all about that, trust me.” Tashok chuckles in sympathy. “We need a phrase for things like that… For when someone asks you a question that brings up a lot of unwanted baggage and you’d rather it be dropped?”

“Eh…” Orthorn grins. “How about: this question brings up a lot of unwanted baggage and I’d rather it be dropped?”

“Pffff…” Tashok closes her eyes and snickers into her mouth.

“It’s straight to the point, wouldn’t you say?” Orthorn feels emboldened by Tashok’s laughter.

“Maybe a bit too much… What if they keep pressing?”

“Now that’s just rude.” Orthorn punctuates his point by crossing his arms and nodding haughtily.

“What’s your phrase for those people?”

“Mh… None yet. How about: no. Short, simple.”

“I’ll try it out next time.” Tashok chuckles. “Might save me some heavy breathing.”

She peers over the edge of the ledge, happy so see the drop is inconsequential rather than a steep cliff. She motions him to follow as she carefully steps down.

“I used to find it odd, how anxious you were as Arch-Mage…” he admits.

“Oh? Erm… My bad?” Tashok’s face is a combination of apologetic and confused.

“It’s not a bad thing!” Orthorn says quickly. “I just thought it'd different. You’re strong, and in charge of everyone else… It just… If I was half as strong I’d be telling people off left and right. But you barely ever do that. Almost make it seem like you’re an apprentice whose apprenticeship is on the line.”

“I do?”

“Yes? That’s not rude to say is it?”

“Maybe a little? I can’t tell those things very well… I’m not offended, if that’s what you’re asking.”

“Good…” Orthorn lets out a shaky breath. “… I’m not sure why I brought this up. Guess it was just on my mind…”

“Right… You think I’m strong?”

“From what I’ve seen? Yes. Obviously.” Orthorn says the last word while nodding quickly. “Just think back to yesterday… That bandit was no match for you.”

Tashok grows silent, and Orthorn curses himself for making such an out of place comment. He begins considering an apology but Tashok speaks up, softly.

“Not… Not scary, though?” she looks forward, brows furrowed ever so slightly.

“Scary? Um…” Orthorn is thrown off by the question. “To your enemies maybe?” he immediately realizes he’s said the wrong thing when Tashok’s mouth forms into a thin line and her eyes seem more distant. “Arch— Tashok?”

Tashok snaps out of whatever thoughts she had and glances his way without turning her body.

“Sorry.” she says, trying to keep her voice even. “I uh… Don’t mean to be.”

“W-what?” Orthorn’s eyes dart around as if an answer to what the Orc is trying to say would be floating nearby, ready to be plucked mid-air.

“Uh… Scary that is.” Tashok coughs nervously. “I try not to be.”

“You’re not!” Orthorn quickly adds, hoping to undo his previous words. “Not to me, at least…”

Tashok looks at him skeptically.

“Okay maybe at first… But I was worried about everyone at the College.” Orthorn admits. “You’re a lot more approachable than I thought.”

“Thanks I guess.” Tashok isn’t completely convinced, but appreciates the thought nonetheless. Her eyes lock onto what appears to be an altar in the distance. “Wait.” she points out to it. “I think that might be it.”

“I don’t see anyone there…” Orthorn notes sombrely.

“Maybe he left? Let’s go investigate. See if we can find anything useful…”

Tashok fights back the urge to run towards the altar, knowing there could be many unseen dangers ranging from bear traps to sudden drops separating them. Her stomach drops as she gets closer and sees was seems to be a humanoid-shaped being covered in snow and frost. This causes her step to falter, and in a fortunate turn of events, allows her to notice the charged runes scattered around the altar, barely visible against the snow and ice.

"Frost runes!” she calls out.

“Wher—” Orthorn squints. “Oh! I see them! I can take care of those.”

“Are you sure? I usually hit it with a Destruction spell but I’m never quite far enough to avoid the blast.”

“Why don’t you back up then?” Orthorn’s palm shakes minutely before sparks begin to build within it.

“Frost doesn’t have much of a reach…” Tashok pouts. “Wait! What if he’s still alive! He’ll be in the blast. Let’s give them a wide berth…”

She begins circling the altar and reaches over the table to try and rouse the individual.

“What about a projectile spell?” Orthorn asks as she shakes the body’s shoulder. “Like Firebolt… Or…”

His voice dies down as he sees Tashok’s face fall. The body is stiff and frozen under her fingers… they’re much too late, perhaps even more so than with Borvir, considering the state of the body. The frost runes could have something to do with this, however.

“He’s… he’s dead, isn’t he?” Orthorn asks despite knowing, deep down that he already was.

Tashok bites her lip as she nods, frozen in place almost as much as the deceased apprentice.

“We should still bring him back.” Orthorn says after almost a minute of silence. “And get rid of the runes… Why don’t you back up, I’ll hit them from here.”

He waits until Tashok is at a safe distance before letting a Lightning Bolt fly towards the rune, which erupts in an explosion of ice and frost. He approaches the altar himself after disposing of the second.

“It’s safer if you hit the runes with a projectile spell.” he tells Tashok as she hops over some debris.

“I don’t know any.” she says, embarrassed. "Well, I do, but I can't cast it."  


“Wh-what do you mean?” Orthorn blinks a few times.

“I'm not sure. Destruction magic doesn’t interest me one bit.” Tashok purses her lips. “So I didn't really worry when I couldn't cast it properly. Maybe I should try and learn, just in case I run into runes again…”

“Would be safer…” Orthorn spares a wince in the body’s direction. “I uh… I’ll make sure it’s him.”

The frozen, lifeless face of Rundi hits Orthorn harder than he expected, considering he’d expected this outcome. Rundi had always been careless and laughed at safety precautions… Still the sight of the body of someone he knows makes his blood run cold.

“It is, isn’t it?” Tashok eventually comes to kneel by him. “I’ll carry him but… We should take a break. Gather our strength back before we leave…” she glances around. “There. We can built a temporary shelter against the ledge, eat and warm up, then get going.”

He nods as she does her best to bring Rundi’s body into a sitting position. The shelter is built within thirty minutes and the bit of warmth helps him get his shivering under control. He suspects it isn’t entirely due to the cold, however.

“Are you alright?” Tashok asks him as she rubs her shoulder, wincing.

“I…” Orthorn considers her question before answering. “I’m fine. I think… I had less hopes for Rundi than I did Borvir, as bad as it sounds…”

“Oh?”

“Rundi was, um… He didn’t think real mages had to be careful, simply put. He made fun of Borvir over it a lot.” he sighs. “Still… He didn’t deserve to die…”

“Of course not… We all make mistakes. I made a lot where I was lucky to make it.”

Orthorn looks eyes with her. “Me too.”

Tashok puts the mess kit away and looks out their small shelter mournfully.

“I… guess we should get going…” she glances at Orthorn. “Ready?”

“If you are.” he stands and extends his hand, helping her up. “I think we should go find a sleigh, instead of carrying Rundi ourselves.”

“Won’t that take a while?” Tashok begins to roll the tarp they used.

“Maybe but… It’ll be easier. And it might take us a while to bring him over some of the ledges we had to jump…”

“Right, right… It just… Feels wrong to leave him here.”

“I know.” Orthorn looks down, running a hand against his arm. “It just seems like the right plan.”

“It is.” Tashok hope she isn’t squandering Orthorn’s will to make suggestions. “We should head out right away then… With any luck we’ll make it there and back before it gets too cold.”

The walk back was tense, broken every few minutes by the mages’ futile attempts at making conversation, hoping they’d be able to distract one another. The conversations, while mostly devoid of substance does manage to keep their minds busy until they reach Winterhold. Tashok begins to slow her step as they approach the bridge to the College,

“Do you think you could, uh...” Tashok speaks up. She fidgets for a few seconds before composing herself. “Well I was thinking I could look for that sleigh, and while I do that you could tell Phinis about... about Rundi?”

She isn’t meeting Orthorn’s gaze, her hands tangling at the cuffs of her coat, her mouth twisted into a tight line.

“Of course.” he reassures her. “I’ll… uh. I’ll head up there and tell him.” he begins to walk before halting. “Um, where should I meet back with you?”

“Mh…” Tashok turns around, glancing back at the city, in search for an adequate meeting place. “The inn?”

“I can do that.” Orthorn shrugs before heading to the College.

Now that she stands alone, Tashok begins to realize she has no clue where to find a sleigh she could rent. She walks across the city, rubbing her hands together to keep warm but also to keep her hands from clutching at her clothes as she often does when nervous.

She finds herself in front of the Jarl’s longhouse, looking at the door longer than necessary.

“Ugh… Might as well ask…” she grumbles as she climbs the steps and pushes the door open.

She sighs softly as the heat warms her up immediately, so much that she takes off her gloves to let it reach her mostly frozen hands more quickly. The warmth-induced relief is short-lived when she notes that there are multiple voices shouting, bouncing off the walls of the main hall.

Panic seizes her, and if not for her sudden inability to move she would be running out the door within the second, sleigh be damned. Her eyes are also locked in place, staring at the floorboards as she tries to compose herself.

“You honestly think Ulfric cares about Winterhold? He doesn’t! He only cares about whatever can give him power, and you know it!” she recognizes the voice of Kraldar, one of the few if not only other nobles of Winterhold.

“I could have your head for this!” Kai’s voice booms.

“For speaking the truth?” Kraldar sounds indignant. “Face it Korir, Winterhold would thrive if we sided with the Empire!”

“And abandon all tradition? I’d rather die than bend the knee to some foreign elves!” Korir spits.

“As if the Empire ever gave us the time of day before the war began!” Thaena says almost at the same time as Korir.

There are many more voices and words exchanged, but what exactly Tashok doesn’t know. She must’ve been inside for less than a few seconds, though it feels like time has stretched on and paused just to have her hear more of the argument.

“My Jarl, someone’s here.” she hears Malur Seloth speak.

“What?” a pause from the Jarl. “Oh, Thane Tashok.”

Tashok gingerly looks up at the sound of her name, wincing.

“Y-yeah?” she chokes out.

“I was told you’d returned… I apologize for the… Distraction.” the Jarl glares at the other members of the court, if it can be called as such.

“Ah! So this is our Thane, and newly-appointed Arch-Mage, are you?” Kraldar closes the distance towards them happily as he grabs her hand to shake it. “I do believe we’ve met, but never quite so formally, did we?”

The instant switch from angry shouts to polite smiles does nothing to alleviate Tashok’s growing unease. In fact, it speeds up the sickening feeling that’s tightening around her chest. Just as she feels like she’s either going to cry or start gasping for air, Kraldar is forcefully pulled back.

“Will you give my Thane some space?” Korir looks as angry as he did when she first came in. “Tashok.” he starts, his voice strained for trying to keep it even. “Would you mind waiting for me in the war room? I’ll be with you as soon as I can.”

“I-I-I can come back later…” Tashok curses the tremble in her voice. “Don’t want to interrupt…”

“It’s fine. It must be important if you’re here this late. Your social visits are usually much earlier.” Korir motions to Malur, who takes Tashok by the arm and leads her to the war room.

“Thank the gods you came in.” he groans. “I thought they’d never end their little spat.”

“Does this happen often?” Tashok lets herself sink into a chair.

“Pff… At least once a week.” Malur leans against the wall, arms crossed. “I stay out of it. Being a Dunmer already puts me on thin ice with the Jarl… Wouldn’t want to give my take on politics and make him get rid of me.”

“R-right…” Tashok’s hands wrap around herself automatically.

Malur eyes her silently, noting the light shaking and the clutching.

“Looks like you’ve been out adventuring again.” he says. “I’ll get you something to drink while you wait.”

He disappears back into the hall, letting a few irate but noticeably more quiet voices through before the door closes again, muffling them into a near non-existence. Tashok lets out a shaky breath, bringing her face into her hands. The cold of them feels wondrous against her hot, flushed cheeks.

She jumps at the creak of the opening door, sitting up straight and looking at the entering man.

“I really didn’t mean to interrupt!” she says. “I can come back another time so I don’t bother—”

“You did me a favour by coming here.” Korir silences her with help up hand. “Now, what is it I can help with?”

“Um…” Tashok momentarily forgets what she had come here for in the first place. “Oh, it feels silly now…”

She looks bashfully to the side.

“Just spit it out.” Korir rolls his eyes.

He was confused and rather suspicious of the Orc’s demeanour at first, but after a few months of interacting with her, he’s come to understand that her nervous behaviour is simply how she interacts with most people.

“Well… I need a sleigh. Big enough to carry a person…” she starts, wringing her gloves worriedly while still avoiding the Jarl’s gaze. “I wanted to know where I could find one? I should’ve asked Birna… I realize that now…”

“A sleigh? Just borrow one of mine.” Korir shrugs. “I want to know what for, though.”

“Mh? Oh... Well,” Tashok hesitates. Speaking of the College with the Jarl is still a tense affair. “I learned that the apprentice group before mine had disappeared.”

“All of them?”

Tashok nods tersely.

“Heh, not surprised…” Korir snorts derisively. “So it’s fallen to you to pick up the slack, uh?”

“I’m the Arch-Mage now…” Tashok explains.

“Yes I know.” the Jarl scowls at the very thought. “Must be hard, trying to shape the College into something decent. But what’s the sleigh for?”

“We… We found the body of one of the apprentices. Well, two. I brought the first here yesterday. But the second one, he died farther off the main roads.”

Tashok swallows heavily, pushing down the bitter stew of feelings building up. Sorrow, guilt and anger all blending together, leaving a bad taste in her mouth.

Korir’s face softens as he sees Tashok tensing, her face twisting into a sullen expression.

“Being a leader can be hard.” he says. “But you can’t help, or even please…” he glares at the closed door. “Everyone.”

Tashok looks up to him, surprised by his tone. Almost gentle.

“I’ll tell Melur to send for a sleigh for you.” Korir says, straightening his posture. “I’ll also ask one of my guards to accompany you. It’s going to be dark soon and I’d hate to lose my thane just because some wolves got to you.”

With that he exits the room, leaving Tashok confused but grateful at the relatively smooth exchange.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fun fact while proof-reading this I read the line:  
> “Hey.” she stands up straight. “I spoke with Phinis. They’ll send Borvir’s remains back to Morthal.” as  
> “Hey.” she stands up straight. “I spoke with Phinis. They’ll send Borvir’s remains back to Montreal.”  
> Morthal is now Montreal pass it on.


	3. Ilas-Tei

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Orthorn and Tashok find a group of warriors during their search for Ilas-Tei.

“The College looks so odd from down here…” Tashok notes as she turns to look towards the shore, and in turn the College. “… How is it even standing?”

Orthorn barely spares a glance at the structure, too focussed on looking where he’s stepping and carefully avoiding ice.

“Probably magic.” he manages to get out of the small raft they laboriously steered to the island.

The island itself has been dubbed Ysgramor’s Rest, fitting considering the legendary hero's tomb is seated within. According to Phinis’ notes, this was the last place Ilas-Tei had been known to visit, and had informed him that she would be staying here indefinitely.

Tashok struggles to regain her footing as Orthorn’s departure from the boat causes it to tip on the frozen soil. She ends up on one knee, but climbs out after a few seconds with Orthorn’s help. Once on solid ground, the two look up the mountain’s towering height.

“… I…” Orthorn takes a deep breath. “I hope she’s okay…”

Tashok looks to him with sympathy.

“Me too.” she pauses, glancing once more to the College. “Were you friends?”

Orthorn grows quiet at her question. After a long moment of silence, he answers.

“No, but… I wish we could’ve been.” he sighs. “She was kind to me, definitely, but she was quiet. Kept to herself and her studies a lot.”

“Guess that’s why she came here to practice. Now, we should start our search.”

“Might as well start with the tomb.”

Tashok starts climbing the various rocks while Orthorn hesitantly shuffles behind, unwilling to brave the steep climb.

“Um… Maybe there’s a path somewhere?” he says while looking around.

Tashok reaches the top of the wall and glances about.

“Oh, yeah right there!” she points to a path around the incline and waits for Orthorn to catch up to her.

She makes an effort to stick to the vague path for Orthorn’s sake before stopping short and holding out her arm before Orthorn.

“I hear movement…” she says in a hushed voice.

Orthorn listens intently, and he realizes that he too, can hear it: armoured footsteps. Voices as well.

“Do you think they’re bandits?” he glances at her worriedly.

“I’ll go check....” she says after a few seconds of thinking. “Stay here…”

Tashok sticks close to the base of the mountain as she circles it, the voices growing closer and clearer. She peeks her head carefully and sees a small group of four. If they are bandits, they’re a rather small group. Or the others are inside the ruins. This doesn't bode well for them or Ilas-Tei...

They seem to have arrived shortly before then, and Tashok wonders how they missed each other’s presence. As she gets closer, she begins to feel that there’s an air of familiarity to the group.

“I don’t think they’re bandits.” she tells Orthorn as she slides back to him. “We should ask them about Ilas-Tei.”

“If you think it’s a good idea…” Orthorn wants to trust Tashok’s judgment, but can’t shake the paranoia left over from their encounter with the bandit who murdered Borvir.

Tashok responds with the smallest of nods and begins walking towards the group. The people setting down most of their travelling gear see them approaching and while they become on guard, they do not draw their weapons or turn hostile.

Two Nord men, almost identical in stature and appearance step forward, essentially shielding two Nord women, once being a redheaded archer and the other a pale, almost sickly looking brunette.

“Who goes there?” one of them says.

“Oh, uh... hello!” Tashok thinks she recognizes the humans. “How do you do?”

“We’ve come here to honour our Harbinger, Kodlak.” the Nord says.

“You’re the Companions?!” Orthorn gasps. While he’s relieved to know they’re not bandits, he still feels unnerved by the warriors’ presence.

“You know of us?” the archer tilts her head curiously.

“The Companions?” Tashok turns to Orthorn.

"An outsider, eh?” the redheaded Nord chuckles. “Never heard of the Companions? We’re an order of warriors. We are brothers and sisters in honour. And we show up to solve problems if the coin is good enough.”

Tashok squints as her lips purse in thought. Her ears then wiggle up.

“Oh yes I remember you!” she says. “We fought a giant attacking a farm near Whiterun a few months ago.”

“Mh,” it’s now the Nord’s turn to study her. “You do look familiar…” she doesn’t sound fully convinced, however.

“Right!” one of the Nord men speaks. “You let me keep a steel sword you dropped back in Whiterun.” he smiles. “Thanks again for that.”

“I did? Oh yes! Heh… Not a problem.” Tashok smiles sheepishly. “I was carrying so many things, it was almost just clutter at that point. Hope it served you well.”

With two of the Nords having warmed up to her, Tashok feels much less on edge.

“Now, who are you and what are you doing here?” the second Nord man asks.

“My name is Tashok, I’m the Arch-Mage at the College over there.” she points to the College, visible in the far distance. “Orthorn here is a member too. We’re looking for some apprentices that went missing. We haven’t had contact for a while and this is the last known location of one of them. Did you see her? Argonian mage, goes by Ilas-Tei.”

“No.”

The pale Nord woman shakes her head as her companion answers.

“I’m afraid not.” she says. “How long has she been gone?”

“It’s been a while.” Tashok admits sheepishly. The brunette is staring at her with a frozen smile and intense eyes. Or perhaps they only seem off because of the dark circles around them. “We haven’t had contact with her in months.”

“Months?!” the redheaded archer scoffs.

“Yes, well, don’t mind us, then.” Tashok gives them a terse smile. “We’ll take a look at this tomb, see if she might have gone in…”

Tashok pushes the doors open but is immediately grabbed by one of the Nord men.

“You can’t be in there!” he scolds. “This tomb is sacred!”

“Is it?” the brunette asks. “What’s the harm?”

Tashok takes the opportunity to slip in and look around.

“It feels wrong, to let people with no knowledge or reverence for our history to walk in as if this was just another ruin…” the man argues.

“Meh…” the brunette shrugs, pushing the door and following Tashok. “So, Arch-Mage. Find anything?”

“These seem to be her things…” Tashok looks at the small camp set up, Ilas-Tei's journal in hand. “But she’s nowhere around.” she kneels and wrinkles her nose at the molded bread on a nearby wooden box. "Doesn’t look like she’s been here in some time. But why would she leave without her bedroll? Without her travelling gear?”

“Do you think she went inside?” Orthorn suggests.

“I don’t think so.” the friendly man says. “The way is sealed, unless you have Wuuthrad.”

“Who’s Wuuthrad?” Tashok cocks her head to the side.

“Wuuthrad isn’t a person.” the man chuckles.

“It’s a weapon.” Orthorn supplies. “Ysgramor’s axe, actually.”

“I heard that name somewhere...”

The archer looks to Tashok with slight disdain.

“I would hope you did!” she frowns. “He’s Skyrim’s hero.”

“Ah.” Tashok feels her cheeks grow hot. Way to make herself look like even more of a foreigner.

Orthorn cuts the silence after a few tense seconds.

“So what brings you here?” he asks.

“Oh goodness me, we forgot to introduce ourselves.” the brunette woman gasps. “I’m Renske.” she gives them a wide, perhaps a bit too wide, smile. “I’m assisting my friends here in an attempt to free our late mentor from the grasp of a Daedric Prince.”

“I- okay.” Tashok reels a bit at the cheerful delivery of such heavy news.

“This is Farkas.” she motions to the friendly Nord. “Aela.” to the archer. “And Vilkas.” to the final Nord. “Now, we should get a move on.”

Vilkas reaches over hand holds Renske by the wrist.

"This is the resting place of Ysgramor.” he says. "And his most trusted generals. You should be cautious.”

“Cautious?” Renske blinks owlishly.

"The original Companions. Their finest warriors rest with Ysgramor. You'll have to prove yourself to them.”

“Would I be intruding?” Tashok shifts nervously.

“I don’t know you, but your dedication to your people is honourable enough.” he addresses the entire room. “They will fight to see if we are worthy.”

“Right. Let’s go then.” Aela says impatiently. “We owe Kodlak that much, at least.”

“Yes, let’s!” Renske clasps her hands cheerfully. “Farkas, you do have the axe, yes?”

“Right here.” Farkas takes out the weapon.

“Put it on the statue, will you?”

“Interesting weapon…” Tashok notes that the axe emits a faint magical energy. “Is it enchanted?”

“It is! It’s a very special enchantment too.” Renske answers as Farkas reaches over Ysgramor’s statue and places the axe within its hands. “Quite unique. I wonder how they came to make it.”

“What makes it so special?” Tashok asks curiously.

“It’s especially deadly to elves.” Renske explains as if she were describing the seasons.

“…It’s what?” Tashok and Orthorn choke out at once.

“The enchantment. It specifically targets merfolk, you see.”

“Ysgramor made the axe to kill elves specifically?” Tashok chokes out as she and Orthorn share a mortified look.

“Yes it was made to kill elves.” Renske echoes without losing her cheerful demeanour.

“Yes, the axe. The axe Ysgramor made specifically kill the snow elves during the war.” Aela sounds exasperated. “Ysgramor’s axe.” The group turns to see her tapping her foot from a newly opened entrance. “Can we move along?”

“I won’t be coming.” Vilkas says.

“Why not?” Renske turns to him.

"Kodlak was right. I let vengeance rule my heart. I regret nothing of what we did at Driftshade... But I can't go any further with my mind fogged and my heart grieved.”

“That’s fine.” Renske shrugs. “We’ll let you know how it went.”

“I’m coming in.” Tashok says.

“I’m sorry, but no.” Aela says firmly. “This is Companions business.”

“I’m sorry, but I can’t just assume Ilas-Tei isn’t here. She could’ve ended up trapped inside, and I’m not leaving until I search this tomb.”

“We’re on an important mission here, orc.”

“I understand that. But my mission is important too. I won’t get in the way, I promise. I just need to look for her.”

“Fine. But don’t think were here to babysit you mages.”

“We can handle ourselves just fine.”

With that they enter the tomb proper, and are immediately accosted by a group of angry skeevers, easily dispatched. The Companion Ghosts, however, demand a lot more effort.

Tashok promptly summons her bow and sets her arrows loose, carefully to keep her distance. Her shoulder begins to ache in process, but she ignores it and continues fighting.

“Ah, yes I remember you now.” Aela says. “The Orc archer. Didn’t realize you were a mage.”

“No? I’ve had this spell for a while.” Tashok points out. “It’s the one I used when we met. Then again, knowing a few little spells hardly makes me a mage.”

“I assume you know your way around real bows as well?”

“This is real enough, but yes. The application is the same.”

Aela turns to Orthorn.

“And you, elf? Hiding any secret battle prowess?”

“N-no?” he isn’t sure how to answer. "Just my spells…”

“Mh, typical elves.” Aela mumbles.

“Hey, I’m a mage too!” Renske protests. “Nothing wrong with spells.”

“You’re a spellsword.” Farkas corrects her. “Not quite the same.”

“No, no.” Renske insists. “I’m a mage first and foremost. Even this sword here is just a backup…”

“For a bound sword?” Tashok smiles.

“Yes! You never know when you might run out of magicka.”

“Oh, tell me about it.” Tashok grunts in understanding.

They continue fighting many ghosts, and even some Frostbite spiders. At this Farkas, taps Renske on the shoulder.

"I can't go any further, Shield-Sister.” he tells her with a terse voice.

“What’s wrong?” Renske eyes him up and down.

“Are you hurt?” Tashok steps closer. “I can heal you, if you want.”

“It’s nothing like that.” Farkas looks uncomfortable. "Ever since Dustman's Cairn, the big crawly ones have been too much for me. Everyone has their weakness, and this one is mine. I'm not proud, but I will stay back with Vilkas.”

“They freak me out too.” Tashok chuckles sympathetically. “I usually let my… my friend kill them.”

“Give my regards to Ysgramor.” he nods to Renske and Aela before turning back.

“Suit yourself…” Renske turns to Aela. “Good thing I’m here, huh?”

“Oh, definitely.” Aela grins before sparing a glance towards the two mages. “Seems we traded the twins for another duo.”

“I like them.”

“Because they’re mages?”

“‘Course.” Renske skips forward happily. “Rightio then, let’s keep going!”

* * *

“How many of these ghosts are there?!” Tashok asks after shooting down yet _another_ ghost.

“Five hundred, according to legends.” Orthorn says.

“Five hund—?!” Tashok chokes out.

“That was the entirety of the army.” Aela points out. “This is his most trusted entourage.”

“Right. Not as many, then.” Orthorn says.

“I’m quite certain we’re almost there.” Renske encourages them. “Come now, children!”

“Children?” Aela says, eyebrow raised in disbelief.

“I’m pretty sure Tashok and I are older than you…” Orthorn chuckles.

“Mh… You’d be surprised.” Renske gives them a mischievous smile. Orthorn shifts nervously under her gaze.

They walk into yet another hall, though this one is inhabited by only a single spirit, and it does not attack them.

"Greetings, Shield-Sister.” the spirit says.

Renske squints. “Kodlak, is that you?” she asks.

"Of course. My fellow Harbingers and I have been warming ourselves here. Trying to evade Hircine."

Every single living being begins searching the room for the aforementioned Harbingers.

“I don’t see anyone else…” Renske points out.

"You see only me because your heart knows only me as the Companions leader. I'd wager old Vignar could see half a dozen of my predecessors. And I see them all. The ones in Sovngarde. The ones trapped with me in Hircine's realm.”

“Guess that makes sense.” Renske shrugs. “Ghosts can be very odd.”

“They all see you.” everyone hears the smile in Kodlak’s voice. “You've brought honor to the name of the Companions. We won't soon forget it."

“Mh… This is fascinating…” Renske leans in towards Kodlak’s form, passing her hands through him with minimal resistance. “You seem to be entirely cognizant. As you were in life…”

“Shouldn’t I be?” Kodlak sounds amused.

“Well, most ghosts are either very single minded, or hostile, or bound… But you’re just… Here! Oh, I could just ask you so many questions. First off; do you see this tomb as it was back in its prime? Or do you see it as I would? That is to say, a bit on the **ruined sided.”

“I see it as if I had been here when it had been newly erected.”

“Most interesting!”

“Ahem.” Aela cuts in. “Renske, we came here for a reason.”

“Yes, yes I know…” Renske sounds a bit annoyed. She turns back to Kodlak. “Vilkas said you can still be cured.”

"Did he now? I can only hope. You still have the witches' heads? Excellent. Throw one of them into the fire. It will release their magic, for me at least."

Orthorn and Tashok jump as Renske pulls out the decrepit decapitated head of hagraven from a bag before tossing it in the fire and stepping back to observe.

Kodlak’s form immediately begins to struggle silently, though he looks to be in extreme pain as he drops to one knee, hands gripping his head. From his essence, a reddish phantom wolf erupts and leaps viciously towards Renske.

“Well, then!” Renske sounds surprised but in no way bothered. She sounds amused, if anything.

She pulls out an elven sword and begins to swing at the beast, throwing a few firebolts its way until it collapses into nothingness. “Mh. Easier than I thought…”

The Nord looks to Kodlak.

“Kodlak?” her voice betrays concern. “I hope I was supposed to do that…”

“Yes…” the ghost of Kodlak stands. “And so you’ve slain the beast inside of me. I thank you for this gift. The other Harbingers remain trapped by Hircine, though. Perhaps from Sovngarde, the heroes of old can join me in their rescue. The Harrowing of the Hunting Grounds. It would be a battle of such triumph. And perhaps some day, you'll join us in that battle. But for today, return to Jorrvaskr. Triumph in your victory. And lead the Companions to further glory."

His form turns to Aela and the two onlookers.

“Be well, Aela.” he says. “And thank you, strangers.”

With those parting words he disappears, leaving behind silence.

Did I hear right? Did he say you were to lead the Companions?" Aela breaks it.

“Does that bother you?” Renske puts her sword away.

"I'm just surprised. But your strength and honor are apparent to all." Aela concedes. "And it's my honor to be the first to address you as Harbinger. Let's go tell the others."

“Um… Congrats.” Tashok says.

“Thank you kindly.” Renske gives her a toothy smile. “This was definitely an interesting adventure. I’ll say, I didn’t expect I’d become the Harbinger when I first came to Jorvaskr. Hmf… I hope this doesn’t mean I have to leave my cave…”

“Jorvaskr?” Tashok cocks her head. “I heard it was attacked about a few weeks ago."

“Mh? Oh yes. That’s when Kodlak was killed.”

“I’m sorry for your loss.” Tashok says as they exit the tomb.

“Such things happen…” Renske doesn’t seem particularly bothered by the death of her former Harbinger.

The group returns to the tomb’s foyer, where the twin Nords are chatting idly.

“Seems your friend wasn’t here. As we said.” Vilkas notes.

“Well, she was here at some point…” Tashok looks around. “Maybe she’s nearby?”

She nods to Orthorn and the two of them begin walking up the mountain.

“Say, why don’t we come with you?” Renske says.

“What?” the mages and Companions ask in unison.

“Well, we’re here…” Renske says. “And you helped us. We might as well help you.”

The Nord turns to the warriors with a smirk.

“Companions’ honour.” she adds.

Tashok hesitates, fiddling with her gloves as she thinks. Something about the newly appointed Harbinger is off-putting, though what exactly she doesn’t know. Then again she is being rather friendly, and helpful, which only makes Tashok feel guilty for not trusting her fully.

“Sure… More eyes can’t hurt…” she acquiesces.

“Perfect!” Renske brings her hands together happily. “Let’s move forward then, shall we?”

Tashok begins to accept the presence of the four warriors as they traverse the frozen terrain of the island.

“Why did it take you so long to come look for your missing apprentice, anyways?” Aela asks. “You said it’s been some time.”

“Yes, at least a month since we lost contact…” Tashok sighs.

“Shouldn’t you have tried to look sooner?”

“Yes, but… I didn’t know until a few days ago.”

Aela scoffs.

“What kind of Arch-Mage are you?” she frowns. “You should be looking after your people.”

Tashok swallows heavily and feels herself getting nauseous.

“A new one.” Orthorn cuts in.

“What was that?” Aela turns to him.

“We lost our old Arch-Mage about a month ago. Tashok was just appointed as our new Arch-Mage, and started looking for my colleagues as soon as she could.”

As they reach the summit, she begins to feel a pull to her side, up snow covered steps. She follows this pull almost on instinct then begins hearing the somewhat familiar chant.

“Oh no.” she tries to halt her steps and brings her hands to her head.

“Tashok?” Orthorn’s voice grows concerned.

“M’fine…” she grits her teeth, struggling to push the voices away.

They don’t waver.

“What’s wrong with her?” Farkas asks.

“I… I don’t know.” Orthorn reaches out to her.

“It’s fine!” Tashok says quickly, though she in no way looks fine. “Um… Uh. Headache?”

“Do you need a break?”

“No, no we can keep going.” Tashok tries to move the other way, but feels the pull get stronger. “Ugh… I’ll go look over there probably nothing you can all stay here I’ll be right back!”

She sprints up the mountain, ignoring the weariness in her legs and the ache in her shoulder.

 _I just need to reach it, let it do its chanty thing and get back before anyone gets suspicious!_ she thinks, ignoring the people calling after her.

“Where did she go?” she hears Aela ask in surprise.

It’s at that moment Tashok realizes she’s turned invisible.

_Good._

She reaches the wall she knew would be there and stands as close as she can. She scans the strange text frantically and sees a word she thinks she recognizes.

Loyalty? Fealty? No… This is more. Like a kinship.

**Allegiance.**

The instant she deciphers the word, the voices dim into nothingness and she feels like she has a new understanding of the world around her. She sighs in relief at the sudden silence brought on by the disappearance of the chanting.

“There she is!” she hears Renske’s happy voice.

“Tashok, what’s wrong?” Orthorn comes into view. “Where did you go?”

“We had to follow your footsteps, but they stopped here.” Renske says. “I thought you might’ve been swooped up by that Roc we saw on our way here.”

“No, no I’m fine…” Tashok glances at the wall of text. “Just… Looking at this.”

“The ancient Nordic monoliths.” Aela says wistfully. “It’s said the words are that of the dragon language, carved through the strength of their Voice.”

“Dragons?” Tashok lets out a sharp breath.

“Most people don’t even know if they truly existed.” Orthorn says. “But they were so often mentioned in the legends that it does make you wonder if there could be a sliver of truth to it…”

“Of course it’s real.” Farkas says. “They were overthrown by a group of heroes who learned how to use their Voice. Nowadays, only the Greybeards know it.”

“S'that so…” Tashok eyes the wall suspiciously. “Well, I’ll make sure to read up on it in the Arcaneum… I’ve still yet to see any sign of Ilas-Tei.”

“Let’s keep searching.” Orthorn says.

The search continues on, until the Nords spot a Shrine of Talos in the distance.

“We should offer tribute.” Aela suggests. “I doubt this Shrine gets many believers passing through.”

“Yes, let’s go.” Vilkas says.

The group descends the hill carefully, until they reach the shore. There, a group of skeevers begin attacking them viciously. Of course, between the six of them, they’re quickly dispatched.

“Is it me, or did they seem more ravenous than usual?” Orthorn asks.

“Yes…” Tashok’s eyes fall on various skeever bodies, clearly having been torn to shreds by the surviving skeevers. “This is odd.”

Vilkas approaches the water carefully.

“How deep do you think this is?” he asks.

“Can’t be that much, the other island is barely fifty meters away.” Aela states. “We can cross it, we just need to be careful.”

“Hmff… If I had my old ingredients I could whip us a Waterwalking potion…” Tashok grumbles. “Thing is I haven’t been able to find anything that could be used aside from slaughter fish scales…”

“Who cares, let’s just cross.” Farkas begins his walk.

The group follows suit, and Tashok can almost feel her legs constricting as they touch the water.

“Oh-oh-oh, gah!” she gasps as she begins to walk quickly. Her skin feels like it's being pinned in place by a thousand needles.

As soon as she reaches the shore, she begins casting a drying spell along with a warmth spell on her clothing.

“C-can you do that for me, when you’re done?” Orthorn asks looking as frozen, if not more than Tashok herself. “P-please?”

She pauses her casting to help him before coming back to herself. The awful cold sensation is still present, but bearable.

“It’s not that bad, is it?” Renske asks, puzzled. “Surely, not pleasant, but…”

“Nords…” Orthorn lets out a shaky laugh.

“I would appreciate that handy-dandy little spell of your, however.” Renske says.

“Sure… Just give me a few seconds…” Tashok breaths out. The length to which she had to cast the spell did quite the number on her magicka pool.

The Nords mumble a few impressed words at the use of her two spells, which in turns makes Tashok laugh. If only the people of High Rock were so easily impressed!

“Alright, well, while you get your prayers in, I’ll look around for any signs of Ilas-Tei.” she tells them and begins walking around the shoreline.

It’s at this moment they hear an ear-piercing birdlike screech come from the sky. A large shadow sweeps over them, giving them just enough of a warning to its owner's presence. The roc circles them and immediately swoops down.

“Duck!” Vilkas yells.

“Now we know where the Roc went!” Aela pulls out her bow as Tashok summons hers.

Tashok quickly dips her arrow into the poison vial attached to her belt and takes careful aim at the creature, hitting it into where the ulna bone and the humerus meet, effectively sending the creature gliding downwards as it struggles to stay in flight.

It lands above the steps leading to the Shrine and lets out another screech. It tries to fly once more, but is swarmed by the three melee fighters as well as arrows and spells.

Tashok breathes heavily as the Nords approach the beast to ensure it’s truly dead. When her breath evens out, she sees a tense silence has settle between the Companions, who are looking at each other with barely contained anger.

“That emblem…” Vilkas says lowly.

“What is it?” Tashok approaches them.

“Look for yourself.” Farkas hands her a cuff. “This was on its talons.”

Tashok’s breath catches when she sees the telltale symbol of the Thalmor. She’s seen it enough on travelling justiciars and Ancano to recognize it.

“The Thalmor?!” she looks to the Companions. “ _They_ put this bird here?”

“To attack anyone who comes close to the Shrine…” Aela grits her teeth. “The bastards!”

Tashok starts as the implications sink in.

“I need to tell Jarl Korir about this!” she says. “Who knows when this was put here… Or who might’ve been killed!”

“Um…” Renske begins to speak from behind the bird. “Arch-Mage Tashok? I… I think I’ve found your mage.”

“What?” in a moment Tashok is behind the creature and besides Renske.

She brings her hand to her mouth in horror. There, slumped against the base of the Shrine, is an Argonian mage clutching Illusion spell scrolls with multiple deep gashes in the chest and stomach.

“Is it her?” Tashok gingerly approaches the body, reaching out.

“…Yes.” she hears Orthorn say with a shaky voice. “She… The Thalmor did this?”

Tashok feels a wave of anger course through her, culminating as she slams her fist against the stone. She hears Orthorn gasp but doesn’t care about her reputation nor the pain. She doesn’t fight the prickle of angry tears forming at the corner of her eyes.

“Can’t they leave well enough alone?” she yells. “Aren… The guards… Mirabelle is practically dead too, now this?!”

She stands up so quickly her vision swims.

“Urgh!” she grabs her head, trying to even out her breathing. “Do you think _he_ knew?”

“H-he?” Orthorn flinches at her yelling.

“Ancano!”

“I… I don’t know.” Orthorn looks terrified and dejected, glancing between the dead apprentice and his furious Arch-Mage.

Tashok falters when she sees his fear, forcing herself to calm down.

“Okay.” she says with a tight voice. “We need to bring Ilas-Tei back… I also need to tell Korir about this. If our citizens or local pilgrims have been getting killed we need to put a stop to it.”

She looks to Ilas-Tei mournfully.

“I’m sorry.” she whispers as she finally wipes her tears.

* * *

“My Jarl!” Tashok swings the door open and crosses the hall within seconds.

“Thane Tashok?” Korir leans forward from his seat. “You seem distressed. What’s wrong?”

His eyes trail to the four Companions and the mage begin her.

“My Jarl, I found another one of my apprentices.” she blinks back her tears. “She was slaughtered at the Shrine of Talos, near Ysgramor’s tomb.”

“…My condolences.” to his credit, Korir does sound sincere.

“That’s not all. She was killed by a roc, a full-grown one. We… We believe it was put there by the Thalmor.”

“What?!” Korir stands.

“This was clasped on its talons.” Tashok hands him the emblem with shaky hands. “It attacked us as soon as we came close to the shrine.”

Jarl Korir stares at the metallic symbol silently, though his face grows with anger. His fist closes around it, shaking.

“Damnable elves!” he shouts. “If they think they can slaughter the faithful in my hold, they’ll have something else coming!”

He marches to the war room.

“Kai! I need you to gather your men.” he tells the Stormcloak. “Have the spread the word that the Shrines of Talos are not safe until further notice.”

“Should I sent some men to scout the other ones in the hold?” Kai asks.

“Do we have enough? We’re already spread thin as it is…” Korir sighs. “I’ll send a letter to King Ulfric, tell him to warn the other Holds of this…”

The Jarl steps back into the main hall and looks to Tashok. While he’s still visibly angry, his rage isn’t directed at her.

“Thank you, for bringing this to my attention.” he says. “I did well in choosing you as my Thane.”

“Thank you, my Jarl.” Tashok has learned not to bow to the Jarl anymore, but to nod respectfully. “I suggest sending archers. That way the Roc can be killed from a distance.”

“Good idea…” Korir says. “Have you found all your missing mages?”

“No…” Tashok looks down. “There’s still one missing.”

“Blast…” Korir mutters.

“Did you… want me to go with your men?”

“I was hoping you could. But you have your duties. I can’t ask you to put it all on hold for me.”

Tashok nods solemnly.

“Well, you might still be able to send people to assist your men…” Orthorn speaks up quietly.

The Jarl eyes him.

“We… I know there’s a few Shrines on the way to Dawnstar. That’s where we’re headed next.” he stammers. “A-and… There’s also them…”

He turns to the Companions. Korir studies the Nords, his eyes falling on the twins.

“That armour…” he says with awe. “You’re Companions, aren’t you?”

“That we are, good sir!” Renske steps forward. “I’m Renske, the new Harbinger. We’d be happy to help you wipe out the threat these beats pose… Provided the coin is good.”

“That can be arranged.” Jarl Korir settles down sligthly. “This is looking much less bleak... I’ll send a raven to Windhelm, Dawnstar and Riften to warn them of the potential threat."

He sighs, composing himself even more.

"Thank you again, Thane Tashok…" he says. "Come see me before you leave for Dawnstar, I’ll be sure to send some of my men with you. Now, if you don’t mind.”

“Of course. I’ll tell you the day before we leave.” Tashok tells him.

“That will be more than enough…” he pauses. He looks to her with sympathy. “I’m sorry for your loss, Arch-Mage. And good luck.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And so Tashok meets my necromancer-werewolf Renske!
> 
> Mods relevant here:  
> Beast of Tamriel (for the Thalmor roc)  
> Missing Apprentices full quest (the vanilla one is broken)


	4. Towards Dawnstar

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> At the behest of Jarl Korir, Tashok, Orthorn and Inigo, accompanied by Onmund, head west to find the missing apprentice and purge the Shrines.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this was supposed to be where they find Yisra but this chapter was getting VERY long, so I decided to cut it in half.
> 
> Oh, and uh... Warning for Tash pulling some ingredients from a dead creature? It's a bit gross.

“Ah, hello again Arch-Mage.” Phinis greets Tashok as she ambles up the steps to her quarters.

“H-hi....” Tashok forces out.

“It’s a shame about Ilas-Tei…” he says, sighing deeply. “I had particularly high hopes for her. I’m sure that she could have become quite successful here, given enough time…”

“Right....” Tashok looks away. She doesn't need more weight added on to her failure.

“If I may… What happened? Orthorn didn’t specify. He simply gave me her ring and told me she was gone.”

“I, uh… We found her near a Shrine of Talos, by Ysgramor’s tomb.” she takes a seat. She's going to be sitting if she's to recall this without her knees buckling. “The Thalmor put a roc there, to attack whoever gets close. I think she was practicing her spells, casted the wrong spell on the skeevers and swam to the Shrine for safety. But, the roc was there…”

“Goodness…” Phinis gasps, bringing a hand to his chest. “To think she was all alone…”

Tashok wrings her robes with her hands, biting down a panoply of feelings and explosive thoughts from bursting at the wrong person. She wants to blame someone, _anyone_ , so badly... But Phinis seems genuinely mournful over the loss of his apprentices.

 _And yet he’s the one who let them just go off into danger…_ an unhelpful voice supplies in her mind.

 _He’s doing his best! How would you feel if someone dragged your mistakes up to you like this?_ she shoots down the voice.

Unfortunately for her, this leads her to go down all her past mistakes in her mind, starting from the earliest ones, so insignificant in comparison to the later ones. She thinks back to things she’d done as a child, realizing how much trouble she was now that she could reminisce of her past with the mind of an adult.

She hears Phinis speak, but doesn’t quite catch the words.

“Huh?” she blinks herself back to the present.

“I was wondering if you were alright.” Phinis tells her. “Your mind seemed far away.”

“I’m fine.” she lies, rather unconvincingly at that. How could anyone be fine, after everything?

She thought that the Thalmor’s influence had left with Ancano, yet it keeps resurfacing like a particularly stubborn skin disease. And as fate would have it, she’s the one who needs to answer for it. Her very status at the College was because of the troubles the Thalmor had caused, and with each respectful “Arch-Mage” spoken to her, she was reminded of the incident, and of her new responsibilities.

She sighs as she puts her head into her hands. She then looks to Phinis, doing her best to keep her distress from flowing out.

“I’m not cut out for this.” she croaks.

“Why do you say this?” Phinis asks.

“I just… I’m not qualified, at all!” she tells him, her voice wavering at the last word. “I’m barely a mage, I’m barely an adult! I don’t know how to run a college! I don’t understand so many of the words in the books here! I'm not smart enough for this!”

“T-take it easy…!” Phinis lifts his hands placatingly, looking rather awkward about the whole affair. He’s never been emotionally intelligent, and his ineptitude regarding his people skills have gotten him in some trouble in the past.

Atronachs are never as complicated as people…

“I think you’re doing quite well thus far.” he says, hoping it’s the right words. “Besides, the rest of us are here to help.”

“I don’t want to bother other people with my problems! I should be able to do this by myself.”

Tashok sighs loudly.

 _Why am I so useless?_ she asks herself.

“No one expects you to do everything alone.” Phinis says. This should go without saying. “Aren had Mirabelle, and to some extent Faralda helping him. You have Tolfdir, and the rest of us, I’m certain. You need but to ask. Without you none of us would be here to work on our projects.”

“I guess…” Tashok runs a hand over her face. Asking for help. That's the problem... “I just don’t feel I was the right pick, is all.”

“While the choice to make you Arch-Mage was…” Phinis hesitates. This is where using the right words becomes important. “Surprising… I can’t say I can complain. Most of us are too busy with our own affairs to be interested with running the College… And most of those who would be willing to be in charge, well quite frankly they shouldn’t be. Even Faralda, dedicated as she is, doesn’t quite want that title.”

“What about Tolfdir?” Tashok suggests.

“Tolfdir?!” Phinis tries to entertain the idea of having him as Arch-Mage. “He’s a tad too, um… I say this respectfully, scatterbrained for such a position. Forgetful.”

“But I’m forgetful too.” Tashok points out with a frown.

“That’s true, but you at least have the sense to write down everything.” Phinis motions to her hand and arm with a small smile, filled with small inked notes in various stages of fading. “Believe me, until we can cure Mirabelle of whatever has put her in such a deep slumber, you are our best candidate.”

Tashok swallows heavily. Surely, that can’t be true. But she’s already tried passing the mantle on to nearly every other College member, yet most support the Psijiic’s decision, citing that ‘they know best’. She doesn’t know much about the Psijiics past their interactions and what the few College members, and Lucien, have told her.

That's yet another thing setting her apart from her colleagues. Most have passing knowledge of so much information surrounding magic and its history, meanwhile she can barely name three prolific mages that weren’t well-known outside of High Rock.

Magic may have been an everyday occurrence for her, but academic discussions of any kind were not.

“Where will you go next? The presence of Thalmor trained creatures such as rocs is worrying.” Phinis speaks after the silence stretches a bit too long for his taste. “Yisra is still unaccounted for, and with the unfortunate fate of the previous apprentices I’m beginning to get quite worried.”

“I’m trying to figure out what to do.” Tashok tells him. “On one hand I know I need to find Yisra as soon as I can… But after what happened to Ilas-Tei… I feel it’s also my responsibility to make sure no one else dies the same way she did.”

“Ah.” Phinis starts wishing he could have sent someone else to speak to the Arch-Mage. “Have you… found a solution?”

“Possibly?” Tashok scratches her chin. “Orthorn mentioned we could take care of one of the Shrines, on the way to Dawnstar. That was where Yisra went.”

“Oh dear, I do hope she hasn’t run into any trouble.”

Tashok looks like she’s about to sink into her clothing, and Phinis immediately regrets his words. Of course the young — or at least he thinks she’s young — girl is already worrying.

“I assume you’ll be leaving tomorrow, then?” he tries to steer the conversation forward.

“No, we need to rest.” Tashok grumbles. If it was just her, she would’ve left, but she doesn’t want to push Orthorn too hard. “We’ll leave either on Morndas or Tirdas.”

“I see. Do make sure you rest as well.” he goes to pat her on the shoulder, but stops mid gesture. Is this condescending? Would it make things worse?

The Orc is looking at him confusedly and he decides to go through with the pat. She forces a smile, which stays uncomfortably until he leaves a few seconds later.

Tashok glances around the Arcaneum, noticing only Urag in his usually spot being talked to, or rather talked _at_ , by Colette. The librarian looks like he wants to be on a different plane of existence.

Nothing here for Tashok to be invested in.

She climbs up the steps, smiling as she sees her children playing together, sprawled on the floor.

“Is it a flower?” Ma’isha cocks her head as she guesses.

“Yeah!” Sofie claps her hands happily, before seeing Tashok. “Mommy, we’re playing riddles!”

“Wanna guess too?” Ma’isha asks her.

“Sure.” Tashok sits by them. “Hit me with the riddle.”

“I’m long, I’m full of water and fish, and I’m in the ground.” Ma’isha says.

“...A lake?” Tashok guesses.

“Nope.” Ma’isha shakes her head energetically. “You’re really close, though!”

“Mh… Close you say?” Tashok thinks.

Her children are leaning in, clearly itching to tell her the answer but wanting to give her a chance to answer.

“Is it…” she starts. “A river?”

“Yes!” her children yell out happily.

“Try and guess mine!” Alesan scoots closer. “I’m usually made out of wood, I have a string, and Mom, well, you, carry one!”

Tashok would have thought a lute at first, but the last hint makes it clear.

“It’s a bow, right?” she asks.

“Wow, you’re really good at this.” Alesan notes.

“Thank you, dear.” Tashok smiles at him. She pauses, thinking. “So, I’m going to be free tomorrow. Is there something you’d like to do?”

“Can we go sliding? In the snow?” Sofie asks. “I used to do it before.”

“Sure.” Tashok thinks to where she could get some sort of sleigh. “Is this something you’d all like to do?”

“Yeah!” Ma’isha says. “Can we get something at the Inn after?”

“Can I invite Eirid?” Sofie asks. “I think she’d like that.”

“Why not?” Tashok says. “We’ll have to ask Haran and Dagur, of course. But that’s fine by me.”

The children begin to excitedly talk about what they’re going to be doing, who will slide faster and what they’ll eat at the tavern, when Tashok yawns.

“I should try and sleep.” she tells them. “You should too. It’s already quite late. Where did Inigo go?”

She hears Alesan chuckle as he whispers “Inigo-go” to himself.

“I don’t know.” Sofie shrugs. “He said he was going to be gone for a bit.”

“Mh… The tavern perhaps, then.” Tashok wonders. “I’m sure he’ll turn up soon.”

She helps the four children pick up their various toys and parchments along with one book, putting them away in chests and on a small table. Soon enough, she tucks them in and slips into her bed.

She’s barely had her eyes closed for a few minutes when she hears shuffling followed by steps coming towards her. From the direction she assumes this is Alesan.

“Yes?” she opens her eyes when the steps stop by her bed.

“Can I sleep with you?” Alesan asks. “I don’t see you a lot. I miss you.”

Tashok feels her heart swell and truly, how could she say no?

“Of course, hop on in.” she shuffles to the side.

As Alesan gets settled in, Ma’isha comes up to her, pillow in hand.

“Can I sleep here too?” she asks.

“Yes you can.” Tashok says, though less than a second after the ‘yes’ comes out Ma’isha is nestled on her other side.

“What about me, Mama?” she hears Sofie ask.

“Yep!” she answers.

Sofie’s feet patter across the stone floor until she too, jumps into the bed. Tashok waits a few seconds, but doesn’t hear anything from Lucia.

“Lucia, honey?” she calls out.

“Yes?” a small voice answers.

“You can come too, if you want.” Silence. Then, she hears shuffling and walking, until Lucia also slips into the bed quietly. “Goodnight, kids. I love you.”

“I love you too.” Sofie says.

“I love you more.” Alesan adds.

“I love you the mostest!” Ma’isha jumps in.

“I love you too.” Lucia says into the covers.

Tashok sense that Alesana and Ma’isha are about to try one-upping each other again, so she preemptively speaks.

“Goodnight everyone.”

She could swear she hears a ‘I love you more, though’ just before she falls asleep.

* * *

This roc was much harder to bring down than the other, perhaps because it was much bigger.

In this moment, Tashok is thankful she accepted Inigo and Onmund’s offer to accompany them, at least until they reached the Shrine. She’d felt guilty about roping Inigo into more battles, having done her best to ask as little from him as she could and allow him to relax, but now she was glad to have him by her side. Between the four of them, all fighting from a distance, their little party made for an efficient battle.

As the roc falls to the ground, Inigo pulls out his ebony sword and plunges it into its skull, effectively killing it instantly.

“Good job, Inigo!” she calls out.

He looks to her, but instead of grinning in response to the praise, his shoulders hunch and ears droop as he looks away. Concern wells within her and she quickly runs his way.

Is he hurt?

“I am going to miss this…” she barely hears him say.

“Are you alright?” she asks once she's closer.

His head snaps up.

“Yes!” he says hastily. “Do not worry yourself, my friend.”

Tashok can tell by both his tense posture and avoidant eyes that no, he is not alright. She glances at his body, looking for any injuries or for blood, but he seems to be well physically.

“If you say so.” Tashok forces a smile, not wanting to pry. “If there is anything bothering you, though, you can always tell me.”

He nods, though his ears fall backwards. Something is most definitely wrong, though what it could be, Tashok isn’t completely sure.

Is he still upset she tried to tell him she wasn’t who he thought she was? She doesn’t regret telling the truth, even if it did hurt her, and seemingly him as well.

 _Maybe I should give him space…_ she thinks.

Turning around, she notes Onmund crouched near the Roc, frowning as he speaks. He turns to Orthorn and asks something Tashok doesn’t quite make out.

“I have no idea…” Orthorn says sourly. “Since the Civil War? Since the Thalmor first started occupying Skyrim? Who knows…”

“Bastards…” Onmund hisses, standing quickly. He looks to Tashok as she approaches. “Thanks for letting me join you on this.”

“It’s nothing, really…” Tashok isn’t sure why she’s being thanked. Deflecting the thanks seems appropriate in this moment.

“It means a lot to me.” Onmund says. “My family could’ve gone to a Shrine near their home to try and pray. I know this isn’t the one they’d use but… Well, it feels good to get rid of at least some Thalmor threat.”

“Oh… Then, you’re welcome.” she gives him a small smile.

“And with your idea of sending the Companions off to the other Shrines of the hold, I’m sure the people will be safer in no time.”

“That wasn’t my idea. It was Orthorn’s.”

Onmund turns to Orthorn, who looks rather bashful at the sudden attention.

“It just made sense…” Orthorn looks to the side. “Felt right.”

“It was a good idea.” Tashok insists. “I was pretty worried about everything before you suggested that. I mean, I’m still worried but at least now we have a plan!”

“Thank you… It’s… It’s good to be able to do something.”

The group continues to talk amongst one another, mostly idle chat, while they gather their things and eat. Once she’s done with her meal, Tashok stands up and pulls a few feathers from the dead bird.

“I’m sorry!” she turns to her friends sheepishly. “I didn’t think to do this last time, but rocs actually have some incredible alchemical properties… I can’t pass this up!”

“Take your time.” Onmund leans against a nearby boulder. “Uh… do you need help?”

“I should be fine! I’ve seen how to do this in books… And I mean, it’s a bird. I’ve gathered ingredients from birds before…" she pauses. "You guys might want to look elsewhere, though. It could get gross.”

Orthorn goes to open his mouth to ask what she means, when she pulls out a dagger and chops off the roc’s talon with a sickening pop. He cringes and forces himself to look elsewhere, lest he lose his freshly eaten meal.

After a few pops and slices, he turns back, thinking it was over, only to go pale as he sees her cutting out the roc’s eye. She lifts the eyeball meticulously as she cuts, her eyebrows furrowed in concentration.

“Not used to seeing Tash in alchemist mode?” Inigo elbows him gently, amused.

“Uh… It’s a bit gnarly, yes.” Orthorn wants to look away but can’t. Curiosity is like that at times.

“Indeed. I'd like to think I've gotten used to it, but I’m still amazed at her ability to harvest certain ingredients, no matter how unsavoury the collection can be.”

“I hope I don’t have to do anything too drastic when I go collect ingredients for her…”

“Oh? Did she ask you for help?” Inigo’s ear flicks up, frowning as he leans in attentively.

“No, no, I just offered.” Orthorn shrugs, feeling rather put on the spot by the Khajiit’s idle banter. This is one of the Arch-Mage’s closest friends, and as such the need to give a good impression is crucial.

“I’m certain she will appreciate it, if not perhaps try to brush it off.” Inigo says after a few seconds of consideration. “Do not be discouraged if she does. She isn’t used to asking people for help, and doesn’t wish to be a burden. She’s told me herself many times when I or Lucien try to help.”

“D-does she?”

“Yes. But do not worry. She will begin to accept the help more easily once she warms up to you. Or you to her. That part I haven’t quite figured out yet.”

Inigo seems to be struck by an unpleasant thought, as his face grows somber and regretful.

“I will see if she’s almost done…” he says in lieu of parting words and goes to his friend.

“I wonder what’s going on between these two…” Onmund says.

“Uh?” is Orthorn’s eloquent answer.

“They both seem on edge… Well — for Tash — more on edge _than usual_ , I suppose.” Onmund chuckles dryly. “They’ll talk and then one of them says something, or obviously thinks about something and they all clam up and get sad. I’m not really sure what that’s all about. I’d ask Lucien but from what I gathered, he’s in Solstheim.”

“I see…” Orthorn says despite not really understanding. At least Onmund doesn’t seem to mind.

“Ah, they’re ready.” he says, nodding in the two archers' direction.

A flash of concern passes over Onmund’s features as the pair approaches them. Tashok is rubbing at her shoulder, wincing.

“Are you alright?” Onmund motions to her shoulder.

“Yeah… I just… Strained it a bit…” she explains, immediately dropping her hand down, despite her still being visibly in pain. “It’s been acting up lately, and Colette said I should lay off the archery for a bit.”

“What?” Inigo whirls around. “So why didn’t you?”

“Arrows just seemed like the best way to take down a bird!” Tashok defends. Onmund and Inigo send her a scolding look. She sighs, her mouth twisting into a frown. “Alright, alright... I won’t use my bow for a bit now, I promise.”

“Can you use one handed weapons?” Onmund asks.

“Yes! Daggers are pretty good with me.” Tashok pats her orcish dagger. “I also learned a few tricks from Chief Mauhulakh on how to use a sword. Maybe I can put them to use…”

“Good idea.” Inigo smiles. “Why don't you let me handle the shooting for a while.”

The group travels quickly, considering the heavy snow hindering their steps, all while Tashok and Inigo talk animatedly, with Onmund jumping in occasionally.

Despite their good spirits, Orthorn finds himself more and more morose as their conversation goes on. References to shared events and jokes, along with the ease with which they speak leaves him feeling rather out of place.

It’s true that over the month he had moved into the College, the apprentices had been friendly with him, but he hadn’t quite dared approach them. Despite their frequent bickering, they seemed like true friends.

And regarding the Arch-Mage… He’d started thinking that perhaps they could _actually_ be friends. Between their few interactions following his rescue to the disaster caused by the Thalmor agent, she’d seem to be tolerating of his presence, at the very least. Still, he felt there was a wall between them.

Simply put, her title and rather impressive fighting abilities intimidated him.

His small adventure with her had helped, or at least he thinks it helped. She was much more talkative than in their previous interactions at the College, and even seemed interested in what he had to say.

Yet now, looking at how easily she converses with her friends, he understands how little they had connected.

He was certain he was to blame. He’d never been the most riveting conversation partner, or the most interesting. And now that she had better people to converse with, why would she speak with _him_?

“Orthorn?” he hears her say, concern dripping from her voice.

Looking up he notes that he’s mindlessly let himself fall behind the group, as they’re now stopped and waiting for him.

“Sorry!” he runs to them. “Got lost in thought…”

“We can take a break soon, if you want.” Tashok suggests.

“Actually, I had an idea!” Onmund pipes up. “Saarthal is barely out the way to the next Shrine. We could set up camp there, get to the Shrine tomorrow morning after we’ve rested.”

“Saarthal?” Orthorn quirks an eyebrow. The name rings a bell, though he can't quite place its significance.

“It’s an ancient Nordic city.” Tashok supplies. “We explored it a while back.”

“Is it safe?” Orthorn asks, concerned. Nordic ruins have a bad reputation for housing undead draugr and all kinds of dangers.

Tashok grows silent, looking to her friends, her mouth pressed into a thin line.

“It is now.” she finally replies.

“Eh... Why not?” Inigo concedes. “It will keep us from the cold.”

Tashok and Orthorn nod, and so they adjust their course slightly. They come upon the ruins as the sun sets, bathing the surrounding snow with a warm orange glow and making the ruins look dark and blue in contrast.

“It looks just the same…” Onmund remarks.

“It does…” Tashok looks to him, fiddling with her hands uncomfortably. “Do you ever… Wonder how things might be different. If we hadn’t come here?”

Onmund swallows loudly, nodding.

“Not much we can change now…” he says as he steps down the stairs, beckoning her to follow. “We should get set up as soon as we can. The quicker we’re done the more rest we’ll get…”

* * *

Sleeping in the ruin leaves Orthorn much less uneasy than he would have expected. His companion’s disposition could be a factor considering that the other two mages are completely at ease, and even Inigo eventually settles once Tashok informs him that the draugrs that had been hiding deep within the former city were long dead. Well, truly dead, that is.

Inigo still seems a bit uneasy with their surroundings, leaving he and Orthorn awake while the two other mages fall asleep soon after supper.

“Don’t like ruins?” Orthorn breaks the silence.

“I do not fancy any place the dead might walk, no.” Inigo shifts uncomfortably. “I take it you have a healthy fear as well?”

“I suppose…” Orthorn glances about. “I just don’t like dark or damp places all that much.”

He thinks back to his cell in Fellglow keep and suddenly feels that the small fire’s warmth is entirely insufficient.

“Do not worry.” Inigo tells him as he sees him shiver and fold on himself. “I will keep my nose and ears out for trouble.”

The Khajiit flashes him a grin, and while it doesn’t ward off the chill, it does make Orthorn feel more secure. None of the people here will send him away, or leave him somewhere unsavoury.

“… Do you… Know when the College came here?” Orthorn asks after a few minutes of silence.

“I’m uncertain.” Inigo shakes his head. “I began following Tashok after she had found the strange artifact.”

"Artifact?" 

"The big floating blue sphere." Inigo glances in Tashok's direction. She doesn't stir, and so he continues. "The one Ancano tried to use to destroy us all."

The significance of the ruin now dawns on Orthorn. He gasps, looking around, seeing the cracked structures and the fungus-bearing stone in different light.

"So... you weren't with her back then?" he whispers.

"No," Inigo replies. "I began accompanying her later." 

Now that he thinks about it, the blue Khajiit wasn’t with Tashok when she came to rescue him from Fellglow keep, nor did he start seeing him around the Frozen Hearth until later.

“Lucien told me they found it deep within the ruin.” Inigo continues. “Sealed away and guarded by an undead mage. I am glad I was not around for _that_ adventure."

Orthorn finds his gaze searching deeper into the ruin. As much as it was intimidating, he does find himself wishing he could have explored the ancient city along with his fellow colleagues, instead of being miserable inside a cell, surrounded by necromancers and practitioners of dark magic.

“At least it’s cleared out now, right?” he chuckles nervously.

“Indeed. I do hope nothing comes to bother us tonight…” Inigo looks around before smiling widely. “I have an idea.”

He stands and digs around both his and Tashok’s bag, pulling out a robe from his bad and a bell from the other. Orthorn’s eyes follow him as he stands and goes to the passageway leading deeper into the ruin and ties the rope along with the bell to it.

“Now, if any nasty undead come our way, we can hear them.” Inigo sinks back into his bedroll. “Sleep well.”

Orthorn mumbles a barely audible “you too” before laying down and forcing his eyes closed. Despite being rather fatigued from the events of the past week — or perhaps because of them — sleep isn’t coming to him whatsoever. His mind races with a innumerable thoughts, none of them helpful.

He hopes that they’ll leave once they’ve found Ysra and cleared the Shrines…

Orthorn must have fallen asleep at some point, as he awakens to find the fire still going strong, with Tashok looking into it tiredly, her hands loosely clutching a cup of either tea or water. The flames give her eyes a bright reflection as they move to fall onto him after he moves.

“Is it morning?” he asks.

She shakes her head gently.

“Not really.” she whispers. “Can’t sleep, though. Don’t worry, you can sleep some more.”

She gives him a tired smile before turning her gaze back into the flames, her brows furrowed in a light frown.Orthorn unknowingly matches her expression as he scuffs closer, until he’s sitting by her side.

“Thank you for letting me tag along.” he says without looking at her.

“You offered.” Tashok lets out a small chuckle. “Travelling with someone is always better.”

“You have those two now.” Orthorn nods in the direction of the two sleeping forms. “You didn’t need to bring me along. I’m glad you did, so thank you.”

“We started this together, no reason to make you leave…” Tashok’s small smile dissipates as uncertainty creeps up her spine. “...Unless you want to go back. That’s... up to you.”

“No!” Orthorn immediately regrets the volume of his voice as he sees Inigo stir.

Inigo lets out a confused mumble at which Tashok responds. “It’s nothing. Don’t worry.”

Another, affirmative mumble and Inigo’s form settles down and goes back to being still.

“I want to be here.” Orthorn eventually whispers.

“That’s good.” Tashok looks to him with a small smile, despite looking weary. “Glad to have you here.”

“It seemed important… Finding the others. And getting rid of the Thalmor threats, even if it’s just the rocs.”

Tashok swallows heavily as she nods, looking down to the side with her face twisted as if she just tasted something off.

“I still wonder why the Arch-Mage would ever allow a Thalmor agent to stay at the College.” she says.

“From what I gathered the College was hoping to stay on the Thalmor’s good side.” Orthorn recalls the animated debates the Thalmor’s presence had caused. “Didn’t like it, but if they’d refused the Thalmor would’ve accused them of taking sides or hiding something. Guess they wanted to avoid anything bad happening."

“Some good that did us…” Tashok scoffs.

“Well… It could have been worst.” Orthorn winces at his pathetic attempt at reassurance.

“I guess…” Tashok frowns, her face lowering into her scarf. “Still. They should’ve never let Ancano stay. Should’ve left the Orb - that _thing_ , right here and sealed it right back up.”

She looks out to the passageway Inigo rigged with the bell for a few seconds before sighing deeply.

“Guess there isn’t much we can do about it now…” she mumbles.

“Well, there is. We’re doing it right now…” Orthorn points out. “Trying to make things better.”

Tashok turns to him in silence, pensive, before nodding with a small smile. She does look more at ease - grateful for his support, even - which in turn makes him smile.

“We should get some rest.” she says softly, careful not to wake the others. “Sleep well.”


	5. Yisra

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The search for the missing apprentices comes to a close.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for mild gore because of Yisra's fate.

Tashok would have never expected to be fighting with a sword, much less against a gigantic bird who was very keen on tearing anyone that comes near it to shreds. Fighting with a sword was most definitely strange, and a bit frightening, for Tashok. All things considered their fight at the final Shrine went much more smoothly than the previous. The roc seemed to have been injured already, and since no bodies were to be seen, Tashok optimistically assumed that whoever injured it must have escaped.

It also felt somewhat thrilling to jump into the fray, sword and dagger in hand. Still, being this close to her enemies gets somewhat nerve-wracking after the initial novelty wears off.

She sheaths her sword, exchanging it for her dagger as she begins picking ingredients off the dead roc. Despite the stresses of the last few days, the idea of having new ingredients fills her with excitement and even manages to bring a smile to her lips as she swiftly cuts the eyeballs free.

She jumps back sheepishly when she turns around to see Orthorn looking on the edge of vomiting while Onmund is suddenly very interested in one of the nearby shrubs. Inigo, however, looks wistful, for some reason.

“Oh, Orthorn!” she calls out. “I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to squick you out…”

“No, no it’s alright.” Orthorn says with a shaky voice. “I’m sure this is… Uh… An opportunity for you…”

Tashok glances at her now quite full alchemy compartment. It was, indeed, a lovely opportunity to get her hands on pricey ingredients.

“Yeah…” she blushes. “I’m done now!”

She pulls out the map Jarl Korir provided her, which has been marked with the rough locations of the Shrines of Talos.

“I think that was the last one for us…” she says. “Now we just need to look for Yisra.”

“Where was she last again?” Onmund leans in closer to the map.

“Dawnstar.” Tashok breathes out. “I don’t remember seeing her the few times I went… But maybe I just didn’t notice her… Or maybe she was staying outside the town?”

“I’m sure that’s it. After all, it’s not like you knew who she was or what she looked like.” Onmund puts his hand on her shoulder. “No reason for her to stand out.”

“Right…” Tashok forces a smile as she rolls the map and puts it back into its holster. “We’ll tell the Jarl about the Shrines, and ask about Yisra.”

They manage to reach Dawnstar around sundown, and so they come upon the census thatthe meeting with the Jarl will have to wait until the next morning. For now, a warm supper at the inn is in order.

Tashok bristles and smiles as the inn’s warmth hits her, melting the bits of snow that’s clung to her coat and hair. It’s with her smile that she asks Thoring for two rooms and a few meals.

“Back here again?” Thoring grins at her. He’s looking much more chipper than the last time she saw him. “Business has been much better since you and Erandur got rid of those damned nightmares.”

“Glad to hear it.” Tashok pulls out her pouch and begins counting the septims.

“How’d you two do it anyways?”

“Oh, it…” Tashok freezes for a second. She can’t very well tell them it was Vaermina… She looks him straight in the eyes, mustering as much false confidence as she can and makes up a story. “It was a curse. Some cult had been active in there years ago, left some relic that was left untouched.”

Thoring’s eyes grow wide.

“Really?! All these years and we never knew…” he looks perturbed, before nodding to himself, relief clear on his face. “Well, thank you for taking care of it. I’m sure the priest was happy to have someone to protect him as he lifted the curse.”

Tashok nods and smiles, sliding her coins towards him while looking away nervously. He looks down to the money and shakes his head, pushing about half of them back towards her.

“Half-price.” he says. “As a thank you.”

“Oh, n-no…” Tashok tries to push the sum back towards him, flustered. “That’s not… You don’t need to.”

“I want to.” Thoring says. “It’s the least I can do, really.”

“Uh-um…” Tashok stutters. On one hand, she really doesn’t think she deserves the discount, especially from a man who doesn’t get as much patronage as some of the other southernmost inns. On the other hand, she can see that the man won’t budge very easily, and arguing with a kind innkeeper isn’t exactly something she wants to do.

“So…” Thoring leans to the side, counting her companions. “What brings you and your friends back here?”

“Two things, actually. I’m here to bring a message from the Jarl of Winterhold to Jarl Skas the Elder. But I’m also looking for a mage from the College of Winterhold.” Tashok seizes her chance at a lead. “Her name is Yisra, she’s a Redguard, works on flame cloak spells. The last time we heard from her she was the one area, over a month ago.”

Thoring’s eyes flicker with recognition.

“Yes I remember her.” he leans on the counter, thinking. “She rented a room her for some time. Haven’t heard from her in a while, though…”

“Oh…” Tashok deflates. “Do… Do you know where she went?”

“Uh… I didn’t really see her leave. Maybe ask around? I’m sure someone saw which way she left. Don’t worry about your food, Karita will bring it to whatever table you pick."

“Okay, thank you.” Tashok spins around, stuffing her coin pouch back into her satchel. She glances about for a table for their group.

“How about this one?” Onmund taps her on the shoulder and points to a vacant table.

The group mumbles a few words of agreements and settles down. Meanwhile Tashok glances about, looking for anyone she could deem approachable. People don’t exactly enjoy being interrogated when they’re trying to enjoy their meals.

As it turns out, it’s instead Tashok who's approached by Frida, the alchemist. Tashok finds herself grinning widely at the sigh of the woman, who gave her both a sense of kinship as well as being kind and patient with her.

“Welcome back, child.” Frida pats her on the back. “I thought I’d recognized you coming in.”

“Frida!” Tashok beams.

“What brings you back here?” Frida sits next to her. “Are you going to come by the shop tomorrow?”

“Oh I’d love to! I need quite a few ingredients, actually… The College ran out of bear claws… And pearls… and pine thrush eggs… and bees… Even the purple mountain flowers are out!”

“Making stamina potions? Are you trying to supply an army?”

Frida chuckles. Meanwhile, Tashok grows sheepish, looking around uncomfortably.

“They are technically for the Stormcloaks…” Tashok rubs her neck, uneasy. “The Jarl of Winterhold put in the order, but the funds are coming from Jarl Ulfric.”

“Mh, probably for the guards… That or they’re planning a battle of some sort…” Frida huffs. “Like we need more death.”

Tashok feels herself sinking down at the thought. Is it wrong to supply potions to a war faction?

“But if the Jarl but in the order, that means he’s finally opening up to the College.” Frida grins. “That’s good.”

“Yeah… Yes I guess you’re right!” Tashok’s spirits lift. “I don’t know how long they’re been at odds, but I’m glad we’re working together!”

“Atta girl.” Frida pats her over her arm. “I’ll make sure to put ingredients aside for you.”

“Thanks!”

"But ingredients can't be the only thing that brought you to Dawnstar..."

Tashok falls silent, before suddenly remembering her true purpose in the port town.

“Say, would you happen to know Yisra.” Tashok chances. "She’s a Redguard mage, from the College.”

Frida thinks for a moment before nodding slowly.

“Aye, I remember her.” she says. “Passed by my shop a little under a month ago for magicka potions.”

“Really?!” hope surges through Tashok. “Do you know where she went?”

“Let me think… She said she was going to set up camp outside Dawnstar, I know that for sure…”

Tashok unconsciously leans towards Frida as the woman thinks back to the past month. After a few seconds Frida’s eyes turn to Tashok, amused, and she clears her throat.

“Oh! Sorry!” Tashok leans away quickly, though she still looks to Frida expectantly.

“Don’t quote me on this, now… But I think she mentioned wanting to set up camp to the East of Dawnstar, not too far from the shore. Something about wanting water nearby.”

Tashok looks to her friends, exchanging hopeful glances at her companions. Orthorn shifts uncomfortably, not entirely reassured while Onmund and Inigo mirror Tashok’s tentative optimism.

“Good luck with your search.” Frida stands and ruffles Tash’s hair with a grin. “Make sure you come by the shop!”

With her spirits lifted, Tashok easily enjoys the warm meal and jovial mood of the tavern with her friends by her side. While Orthorn doesn’t speak much, he listens to her and Onmund’s mundane retellings of some of the small adventures they had at the College. Including Brelyna’s rather green spellwork and the mystery of who Pearl belonged to.

It’s only once she’s laying in bed, Inigo a few feet from her, that she realizes that her blue friend barely spoke or smiled during the entirety of the evening.

 _Something’s wrong…_ she thinks to herself. He loves taverns. _This should be fun for him… What’s going on?_

She tosses around, unsure of what could be the source of Inigo’s troubles. She thinks back to the last time where he was acting like himself…

Oh.

Right before their conversation about their shared past.

 _So it_ ** _is_** _my fault_. she turns to look at his sleeping form with a sad expression.

Tashok closes her eyes and thinks. She caused this and so it’s now on her to fix it…

But how?

 _By not being a coward and telling him the truth._ her mind supplies.

She spends several minutes ruminating. She did tell him the truth, but he refused to believe it. Not that she can blame him… If she found out a friend of hers had been lying and using her she would love to pretend it wasn’t true.

 _I need to have a proper talk…_ she takes a deep breath, feeling her muscles tense at the mere thought. _And apologize._

Tashok barely sleeps that night, her dreams riddled with anxiety, though they don’t leave her breathless and shaking when she wakes. It seems Vaermina’s influence is truly gone. She finds herself wishing Pearl was by her side — or more realistically, on her face — to comfort her. She barely resists the urge to summon him to her as her mind reminds her of all the reasons why summoning him in this short moment to make herself feel better would be illogical.

First and foremost, poor Ilia may not see the summoning and then panic about Pearl’s apparent disappearance. Additionally, Tashok doesn’t want to drag her little cat through the cold winter of Northern Skyrim.

No, he’s much better off curled up and warm somewhere in her home. Instead of summoning Pearl, Tashok tosses and twists until she’s comfortable and settles for a restless but easy enough sleep.

Their morning routine is quiet and tense, as Tashok isn’t quite sure how to act around Inigo now while Inigo seems determined to let her initiate interactions.

“Did you want to come with me?” Tashok asks as she tightens her boots.

“What…” Inigo hesitates as he pulls his hair into his ponytail. “…do you mean?”

“You don’t have to get up this early, and all…” Tashok explains. “I can go talk to the Jarl by myself, so if you want to sleep a bit longer you can.”

“I do not mind… That is, unless you would rather I don’t tag along?”

“I-uh… I like having you around.”

She hopes her momentary hesitation hasn’t sent the wrong message.

“I will come with you, in that case.” Inigo smiles to himself as he slips his coat on.

Tashok knocks lightly on the door to Onmund and Orthorn’s rooms, with Orthorn looking sleepy but fully dressed opening the door a few seconds later. He seems apprehensive as his face comes into view until his eyes focus and her and Inigo, and he settles.

“A-are we leaving already?” he glances nervously to Onmund’s bed, where the mage is still dead asleep.

Tashok peers over and chuckles. Onmund _does_ like his sleep.

“We’re just headed to the Jarl’s longhouse.” Tashok explains. “We’re not leaving until a bit later. And besides, I need to buy some ingredients from Frida.”

“So… Do we, uh, leave a note?” Orthorn’s eyes dart from Onmund to the two archers. “Or wake him up?”

“I’ll wake him and ask.” Tashok enters the room. “I’d rather ask first, just to be sure. He’ll fall right back asleep if he doesn’t feel like coming along.”

She begins shaking his shoulder gently and calling his name until his eyes peered open, unfocussed.

“Wha…” he rubs one eye and looks to her sleepily.

“We’re going to see the Jarl…” Tashok explains. “We’ll be back after to eat before leaving. Do you want to come with us?”

“D’I haf’ to?” Onmund mumbles.

“No, you can sleep.” Tashok fails to suppress her amused smirk. “We’ll be back.”

“‘kay…G’night.” Onmund faces falls back into his pillow.

With Onmund’s sleepy blessing, the three of them go out into the cold morning air, unconsciously huddling closer together in hopes of warding off the cold.

“Have you ever met this Jarl?” Inigo asks as they approach the Jarl’s Hall a few minutes later.

“Never.” Tashok sucks in a breath. “I mean… I overheard him yelling at this couple once but I didn’t really catch most of it.”

“A Jarl yelling out in the open?” Inigo cringes. “That does not inspire confidence in this particular leader.”

Tashok bites her lip. She still struggles to approach Jarl Korir and Jarl Siddgeir, despite them being on good terms… What will this one think of her, a stranger, simply walking in with no appointment.

She digs into her satchel and pulls out the official letter Jarl Korir had crafted for her, complete with his seal. She holds the rolled up piece of paper tightly, as if it were her only shield against the upcoming situation. She feels Orthorn and Inigo fall behind her as they climb the few steps up to the entrance to the White Hall.

She hesitates for a second, clutching the letter tighter before pushing the door open. The hall is empty, and for a moment Tashok think’s she’s come too early, until her eyes fall on the long dining table, which still has a few items left from what seems to be a breakfast.

Her ear flickers as she hears a few voices coming from up the steps to her left, followed by slow footsteps. She brings the letter to her chest as the steps grow closer.

“Who are you?” a tired looking Nord asks her.

“M-my name is Tashok gra-Wayrest.” she answers without losing too much of her composure. “I… I would like to speak to the Jarl. I have a message from the Jarl of Winterhold.”

“Very well, follow me, please.”

The man, whom Tashok assumes to be the Jarl’s steward, sighs and leads her up the steps to the main hall, where the Jarl is seated.

“Gods be damned, Bulfrek, why’d you bring me someone this early?” he groans when he sees them enter.

“I apologize my Jarl.” Bulfrek says despite not sounding very apologetic. “I can request they come for a later appointment.”

“No, no.” he Jarl rolls his eyes. “They’re already here, I might as well hear what it is they want.”

He glowers at Tashok, making her want to sink into the floorboards so she can escape the interaction. She tries to get her heart rate under control so she can state her business without stammering through it.

“Well?!” the Jarl frowns. “What is it?”

Bulfrek glances at Tashok, taking in her terrified expression and sighs.

“She comes with a message from the Jarl of Winterhold.” he explains, giving Tashok an opening.

“Y-yes!” she takes the opportunity, stepping forward shakily as she hands the Jarl the letter.

“Hmf…” the Jarl looks at the seal. “Seems genuine. So what does Korir want? If it’s guards it’s a strong no. I’m not wasting my men for some nowhere hold that sees more mages and elves walk through its streets than good, proper Nords.”

“Um, uh, no.” Tashok is taken aback by the blunt vitriol. And here she had found Jarl Korir to be harsh. “We found out that the Thalmor have stationed rocs at the surrounding Shrines of Talos. I’ve been to three so far and they all had one.”

“What?! How dare they!” the Jarl stands angrily, going from irritated to fuming.

“I’ve killed the ones at the Shrines I’ve been to, five of them... but I can’t do all the ones in the Pale. I… I have other responsibilities to attend.”

“...Yes, of course... I’ll take care of this.” the Jarl looks her up and down. “And who are you supposed to be again?”

“My name is Tashok gra-Wayrest… I’m-I’m a thane, in Winterhold.”

“Mh. That explains why Korir trusted you with this…”

The Jarl pauses, looking at her in consideration.

“What did you say your name was?” he asks.

“Tashok gra-Wayrest, sir.” Tashok swallows heavily. She hopes he hasn’t heard she was also Falkreath’s thane.

“The nightmares in Dawnstar having being lifted…” he mutters to himself before snapping his eyes back to her. “I hear you helped that happen. You have my thanks. And for the information. I won’t have those blasted elves killing honest, loyal Nords on my watch.”

He leaves his throne, headed towards what seems to be his war room.

“Bulfrek!” he shouts before going in. “Make sure she’s rewarded, you hear?”

Bulfrek nods, going to gather a few gold bars and a bag of septims, which he gives her rather silently and grumpily before sending her on her way.

* * *

“Should I have offered more of my help?” Tashok asks as she waits for Frida to gather her purchase.

“You have done more than enough.” Inigo says. “Besides, you’re already busy with finding Yisra. Taking on more jobs would only make things harder for you.”

“I guess you’re right…” Tashok fiddles with her hair, clearly still worried.

“Here you are.” Frida hands her a wrapped package. “Hope you enjoy them!”

“They’ll be put to good use!” Tashok assures her. “Thank you!”

“I hope you noted the price of these ingredients.” Inigo tells her as they exit. “You should not have to use your own money for College related things.”

“Frida always gives me a list with the prices.” Tashok nods. “I’ll give it to Tolfdir once we’re back. Thanks for reminding me.”

By the time they return to the inn, Onmund is up and awake with his bags packed.

“You’re back!” he smiles as he sees them enter. “Good, I was starting to get hungry.”

“Oh, you didn’t have to wait for us!” Tashok gasps. Had she known he was waiting, she would’ve tried to be quicker with her errands.

“I wanted to.” Onmund shrugs with a small smile. “So, how did the meeting with the Jarl go?”

“It… it went fine?” Tashok replies, though even she’s not quite sure what to make of the exchange.

Onmund sends a questioning glance towards Orthorn and Inigo, his mouth too full to ask for more details.

“He seemed a bit… uh…” Orthorn hesitates.

“Rude.” Inigo supplies.

“He looked like he was in a bad mood.” Tashok explains. “Maybe he’s had a lot of stress, with the war and all.”

“Mh… I don’t know…” Onmund frowns. “I’ve never heard anyone talk about him in a good way. I think he’s just like that.”

“Well, he listened to me, at least…” Tashok suddenly remembers the payment she was given. “Oh, wait! He gave me a reward… We should split it.”

She shoves a spoonful of porridge into her mouth before digging into her satchel, which had been getting heavier as the morning stretched on, even with the new ingredients being tucked away into her backpack.

“Split it?” Orthorn looks puzzled.

“F’course!” Tashok manages to say. She swallows, regretting the hasty decision as the glob of food was decidedly not ready to go down quite yet. She pushes through the discomfort and continues speaking. “We’ll have to wait ‘till we’re in Winterhold to actually split the gold bars, but we can split the coins right here.”

“But, the reward was for you.”

“I mean, sure, he gave it to me… But — it’s not just me that found out about the Shrines. And you came here with me! Just because I’m the one who gave the message doesn’t mean I should have the whole thing.”

“I was under the impression the reward was for ridding the town of nightmares.” Inigo points out. “You did the Jarl quite a service with that one.”

“Oh… I hadn’t thought of that…” Tashok’s ears drop, only to perk up again as a thought strikes her. “Oh I know! Let’s split the coins four ways, and you and I can take care of the gold bar later at home.”

Inigo smiles as he understands that his friend is going to share the reward no matter what.

“That’s very reasonable.” he says.

Tashok attempts to split the coins, but has to restart twice due to becoming distracted or lost when counting, until Onmund gently offers his help. With less coins to count, they manage to sum it up and split it equally between the four of them before setting off to look for the missing mage.

The skies remain clear, which in turns allows the sun to beam down directly onto the white snow and reflecting into the eyes of the travellers.

“Argh… Goodness, I can’t see a thing!” Tashok lifts her hand to try and shield her eyes from thelight. “Should we stick closer to the shore?”

“Definitely.” Onmund squints as he tries to find a proper path towards the sea. “The wind’ll be worst but at least we’ll be able so see.”

The group manages to meander down to the shore, where despite the strong winds Tashok manages to find even more potential ingredients. She apologizes, gathering the ingredients as quickly as she can, though the wind making her eyes tear up does pose a bit of a challenge.

“I think that’s enough for now.” she mumbles to herself as she wipes at her eyes.

“That was quick.” Onmund says, or rather yells over the loud wind.

“Wind was getting in the way.” Tashok shrugs as they move on. “Besides, I don’t want to keep you all waiting. And we really should be moving on… I can gather ingredients once this is over.”

They spend a long time walking so much in fact that they end up taking three breaks to rest their legs and eat until they come upon a dreary sight.

It’s Orthorn who notices the first signs of something being wrong. A part of the shore seems to be hollowed out, though somewhat shallowly, in a circular shape.

“That’s… odd.” he says, breaking away from the group to investigate.

“You’re right.” Tashok follows after glancing at the scene. Her frown depends as she approaches.

As they get closer, they begin to feel more and more anxious, as they notice snow-covered debris, and what almost looks like a humanoid shape creating a snow drift.

Tashok stops in her tracks, her mind warring with itself.

It could be anyone. Or anything.

But truly, who else would be here?

It can’t be.

It could be.

She shakily pushes some snow to the side with her boot.

Her insides feel like ice as charred bits of wood and ash mix with the snow, the soil black beneath it. She barely notices her breath picking up, or Orthorn kneeling in front of the figure and brushing the snow away.

“Orthorn?” Onmund is suddenly by her side. Or was he already next to her?

His presence breaks her out of her stunned panic, prompting her to run closer to the scene. The first thing she sees is Orthorn holding onto a silver necklace covered with soot, which he brushes his thumb against, revealing an intricately engraved and stylized ‘Y’.

The second thing she notices is the utterly unrecognizable charred corpse of someone who may have been a mage. The skin is distorted and utterly black, reddish brown in some area. The body itself is keeled over, frozen in an agonized position.

“It’s Yisra.” Orthorn utters barely above a whisper.

Tashok should notice him beginning to shake, but her vision swims before her as her breathing becomes more and more erratic.

She feels phantom burns start from her palms and feet, spreading across her skin as she finds herself elsewhere. Boiling water is all around her, surrounding her — but it’s not what’s cutting out her air. She glances around, her vision unfocused and blurred. There’s no way out.

She finds herself swaying back and tries to move to catch her balance once more, but a weakness she hadn’t realized had set it stops her. She barely lifts her foot off the ground.

The only sound she hears is the howling wind, turbulent and violent. She faintly registers the pain as she falls back. 

It’s nothing compared to the agony of being cooked alive.

Her lungs burn. Her eyes burn.

She tells herself it’s fine. She’s fine. She’s fine. She’s fine?

Yes… Maybe?

 _You’re fine._ she tries to tell herself.

_Are you okay?_

_Am I?!_ she screams at herself.

 _You’re better off than_ ** _her_** _…_ a voice hisses at her. _You’re alive and yet here you are, making yourself pathetic and needy. Again._

Yisra’s dead. Burned alive. Alone.

Tashok blinks, feeling scalding water streak down and she barely registers it’s her own tears. She remembers the pure agony of the boiler.

Feeling like her skin was about to split and peel right off of her.

This is happened to her. To Yisra.

There was no healing for her. No friend to help her up.

She died in pain and alone.

 _And you could’ve stopped it._ Tashok’s mind spits at her.

She could’ve found her.

Instead of running from her problems. Running from her responsibility.

Yirsa’s blood… her ashes… are on Tashok’s hands.

Tashok’s body screams for her to breathe.

“Tashok!” she feels two hands cup her face firmly.

They’re cold. The cold is a relief, a distraction from the fire she feels enveloping her. She brings her own hands to touch them, blinking and unfocussed. Her vision eventually settles until Inigo’s panic-stricken face comes into focus.

“I’m sorry.” she sobs out between ragged breaths.

“Do not say such things.” he brings her into a hug. “I’ve got you… Friend. My friend.”

Her sobbing doesn’t subside, but her breathing slowly evens out into shallow breaths in between her hiccuping. She closes her eyes, telling herself to be calm, and holds onto Inigo.

* * *

The past day was more turbulent than Orthorn could have wanted or expected. Finding Yisra’s body was crushing, though much less than he had expected. He admits to himself that he’d given up on finding her alive long before they left to search for her.

And to say that Tashok had reacted badly to finding Yisra was an understatement.

For a moment the thought she was going to faint, or that she’d been poisoned and was dying or _something_. Onmund had pushed some water to her lips as Inigo hugged her and tried to get her to settle down.

She had settled down, yes, but had also spent the entire walk back to Dawnstar looking into the distance quietly. She often didn’t register their attempts at talking to her.

He also hadn’t seen her at breakfast, nor any other time the next day, though Inigo assured he and Onmund that she was simply resting.

She was up early the next morning, eating quietly next to him and mumbled something about leaving for Winterhold tomorrow.

By now he'd left the inn to explore the town and coming out of the Mortar and Pestle with a few magicka potions. It never hurts to have those on hand. That's when he notices Tashok slinking away towards the shoreline, and only hesitates a few seconds before following. He watches her pick off multiple pods from a variety of plain looking grass with shaky hands. After some time he realizes that she’s breathing heavily, pausing every few minutes and gasping.

“Tashok?” he approaches her.

She jumps, turning quickly and settling down when she sees him. Her eyes seem glossy, but it could easily be from the harsh winds.

“Oh, hello...” she gives him a tired smile. “Here to pick up some ingredients? I’m telling you, I’m already picking the best ones...”

“Pick away.” Orthorn chuckles. She seems to be back to something closer to her usually self. “I was just coming to see you.”

“You were?”

“Yes… I… Are you alright?”

Tashok’s small smile slips as she looks down to her harvest.

“Not really…” she sighs. “This helps, though… I just wish I didn’t keep running into things like this.”

“You... don’t like death, do you?” Orthorn cocks his head as he studies the Arch-Mage. Living in Skyrim usually leaves people to have a rather casual attitude towards death, especially since the Great War. Seeing Tashok's visceral reaction to death was a bit of a shock.

“Does anyone?” she lets out a dry laugh, looking tired.

“Sadly, yes...” Orthorn grows somber. “I think the Caller and her followers were some of them.”

“At the very least they seemed keen on experimenting on others.”

Orthorn falls back in silence. Tashok turns to him, concerned and having forgotten about her own troubles.

“Orthorn? Do you need to sit down?” she looks around. “We could find some shelter to catch our breaths...”

“I was so stupid - trusting them.” he scowls. “I knew they were dabbling in the dark arts, that what they were doing was wrong and yet I still went with them. If you hadn’t come for the books…”

The air grows heavy, the implications not lost on either mages. She stands once more and encourages him to follow as she forages the surrounding flora.

“I’m sure someone would have sent for you…” she tries to sound comforting. She snorts and adds the second bit more dryly. “Well, sent me specifically.”

“You’re only saying this to make me feel better.” Orthorn mumbles.

“Is it working?…” she gives him a tentative smile. He simply looks down sadly. “I’ll take that as a no…”

He sighs, eyes focussed on the snow-covered plants.

“I do mean it. I’ve been thinking about it…” she continues. “Two of the three books aren’t really rare or even hard to come by at all: my alchemy master had King of the Ayleids in his shop. If Urag had really wanted them back, he could’ve sent me to find a copy elsewhere, or ordered new ones. But he sent me to Fellglow Keep. He made sure to tell me who you were and set you apart from all the other mages there. I think he wanted me to help you.”

“I’m pretty sure he’s the last person who would want to help me.” Orthorn frowns. “Besides, how could he tell I was locked up?”

“Mh…” Tashok pouts as she thinks. “Yes, he probably didn’t… but… maybe he thought I’d be able to talk you into leaving? You don’t seem the type to be in a place like that.”

“…Eh…Right.” Orthorn laughs bitterly. “‘Course not.”

“That’s a good thing…” she holds out her and to guide him down a small rock formation as they break off the main path. "You’re much too nice to be around people like them.”

Orthorn blinks in surprise.

“Gnk…” he takes her hand and jumps down. “Thanks.”

They travel in silence as Tashok occasionally pulls out her map, checking the various landmarks in order to figure out the best way to reach their destinations.

“Where we you when I started at the College?” Orthorn lets out a small laugh. “I could’ve used someone decent back then.”

“Oh.” Tashok looks to the side, laughing nervously. “Probably in High Rock…”

“High Rock?!” Orthorn cocks his head to the side. “What were you doing _there_?”

“Oh, you don’t know? I grew up there.” Tashok rubs at her arm shyly. “I always wanted to learn more about magic, but I never thought I’d get to. It’s a pretty prestigious privilege to study magic over there.”

“So I’ve heard. Is that why you came to Skyrim, even in the middle of a civil war?”

“I-uh...Hmf... Gnk, not quite…” Tashok winces nervously. “I had to leave, and the ship to Solitude was the cheapest way out. Didn’t expect a Civil War either… I don’t think news of the High King’s death had reached us yet.”

Tashok looks to the Sea of Ghosts, deep in thought. How different would things have been if instead of Windhelm, she’d landed in Solitude as she had been supposed to? She hasn’t even visited the capital yet… Perhaps they might have some proper soaps. Her stock is nearing an end.

“Well, I guess I’m glad you landed where you did.” Orthorn chuckles nervously. “Who knows what would’ve happened to me if you hadn’t arrived. Or what would’ve happened to the College.”

“I guess it did all work out. I don’t think about it often, but I still can’t help but wonder, sometimes.”

“I get it. I think about what-ifs all the time…”

He offers her a sympathetic smile, which she returns as best she can.

“We should probably head back, if that’s alright with you.” he suggests. “I think the others might get worried. I only saw you here by chance.”

Tashok’s eyes widen.

“Oh goodness you’re right!” she gasps, quickly stuffing the many pearls and pods into her bag.

 _There you go, being inconsiderate again. It’s a wonder your friends still like you.._. her mind chastises her.

“Let’s not keep them waiting.” she says.


	6. Conclusion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tashok comes back to the College and thus the search for the missing apprentices comes to an end. Her friends take her out for some lighthearted fun, but the "liquid courage" they drink at the inn pushes Tash to finally talk with Inigo about their misunderstanding.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Spoiler for someone Inigo's quest.

“I'm sorry…” Tashok looks down mournfully.

“It’s not your fault, Arch-Mage.” Phinis sighs, holding Yisra’s silver necklace close. “If anything the fault lies with me…”

Tashok feels a wave of sympathy crash over herself as she sees Phinis close his eyes to gather his composure. She’s never seen him this upset, and all at once the feeling of guilt that had been haunting her following their discovery of Yisra’s remains flows back.

She can’t help but feel she could have done more, been quicker, asked about them earlier… Maybe then the College wouldn’t have lost four apprentices.

“Is there anything I can do to help?” Tashok asks after a few moments of silence.

“I don’t believe there is, no…” Phinis replies, voice tight. “But thank you.”

“I… I’ll be going.” Tashok announces, haphazardly pointing in a different direction, waiting a few seconds and heading for her quarters. She wants to sleep. Or read some recipes… Something to distract her.

She pushes the door and her children talking amongst each other from the other side, which brings a small smile to her face.

“Mama!” Sofie greets her with a hug. “You’re back!”

“Hello, sweetie!” Tashok hugs her back, closing her eyes.

She feels a few more little bodies add themselves to the hug quickly.

“Oh, we have something for you Mama!” Ma’isha jumps back excitedly.

“Oh?” Tashok takes a seat by a small table. “Do tell…”

The kids look at each other with barely concealed glee before running to the other side of the wall, whispering to each other and trying to figure out who will give said surprise to her.

“We can just hand it to her!” Alesan says.

They finally come back, a wrapped, seemingly soft package in hands which they slip on her lap. Tashok waits to see if the children have anything else to say, but they simply look at her expectantly, and so she beings carefully opening the package. She pulls the brown paper away to reveal a forest green garment, which upon closer inspection is a robe with a lavender trim.

“It’s green!” Alesan points out. “Like you!”

“And it’s got purple.” Ma’isha adds. “Like your eyes!”

Tashok’s heart swells as she feels her eyes tear up.

“Thank you so much!” she says with a sappy smile.

“We wanted to get you something nice!” Sofie says.

“Oh yeah, we also got you this!” Alesan runs to a chest and pulls out a small bag. “We went to the shore with Brelyna and J’Zargo! Look!”

Tashok opens the bag to see a variety of Pearls of different shapes and sizes.

“For your potions!” Sofie says. “You mentioned your ran out, so J’Zargo decided to go get more for you. We went with them.”

Tashok goes silent, taken by surprise by the amount of consideration coming from her family and her friends. She closes her eyes from the rush of love and affection, holding back tears.

“Mama?” she hears Lucia’s soft voice.

“You’re all so wonderful.” Tashok replies tearily. “Honestly.”

She wipes her tears and her children smile in relief, seeing that their mother isn’t sad, but rather touched and ecstatic from their gift. After many more hugs, Tashok settles on the bed with them and begins reading a few short stories from one of the many children’s books she bought for them.

“Mama?” Ma’isha asks after the fourth story.

“Hm?” Tashok looks down to the small Khajiit, cuddled against her.

“I’m hungry.” she says.

“Me too.” Alesan adds.

“Alright then.” Tashok closes her book. “Anyone else hungry?”

Sofie confirms that yes, she is while Lucia nods gently.

“Let’s go down to the kitchens then…” Tashok says. “I’ll cook you up something quickly.”

While in the kitchen, Ma’isha and Sofie insist on helping Tashok prepare the food while Alesan talks animatedly to Lucia, telling her about the many things he and his father once ate while at sea.

“You can set the cheese slices over the potatoes.” Tashok tells Ma’isha. “Sofie, why don’t you put the onion peels into the compost bin?”

She hears Sofie’s footsteps leave the kitchen while focussing on slicing the cheese carefully and quickly and setting it in the nearby plate. After a few minutes, Tashok closes the pan’s lid and sets it above the fire.

“There, now it’ll be ready in about twenty minutes.” she says. “Feel free to go play while it cooks.”

With her children leaving as they challenge each other to a game of hide and seek, Tashok decides that a small walk around the College would do her some good. She’s barely walked a few meters from the kitchen when she hears quick and light footsteps rushing towards her. Turning around, she sees Lucia catching up to her. The little Nord looks up to her with wide eyes, almost panicked, as if she’d been trying to follow Tashok sneakily.

“Is there something wrong, Lucia?” Tashok turns fully and approaches her. She begins gives a quick glances over Lucia, looking for any sign of problems, but sees nothing out of the ordinary.

“N-no…” Lucia says softly, standing stiff as Tashok inspects her.

“Were you going to go play with the others?” Tashok tries.

“If you want me to.”

This throws Tashok off, and she hesitates for a moment, unsure of what to make of the statement or even how to respond.

“Uh… You can do whatever you want, Lucia.” is the reply she finally settles on.

“Can I stay with you?” Lucia looks to her with pleading eyes.

“Of course… I’m not doing anything interesting, but I don’t mind you staying with me until we’re ready to eat.”

As soon as Tashok gives her permission, Lucia closes the distance between them and holds on to her hand. Tashok decides that she might as well talk about the different sights they see as they walk through the College’s halls, seeing as Lucia might be bored with just a silent walk.

“This latch here goes down to the Midden.” Tashok explains. “Try not to go down there… It’s very cold, full of spiders and just not very nice to walk in. I don’t want any of you getting hurt.”

“Why is it here?” Lucia asks.

“You know what? I’m not sure… I’ll try and see if I can get it back into shape, so we can actually use the space…”

Tashok goes silent as she muses on the many uses they could make of the space. It wouldn’t be too tall of an order to clean up at least a small section of The Midden. She’s brought out of her thoughts when she feels Lucia’s hand softly grasp for her own. She looks down to her daughter and smiles, closing her hand around hers. She opens her mouth to speak, but is cut short by Phinis’ voice.

“Ah, Arch-Mage!” he jogs towards her, a staff in hand. “I was looking for you.”

“I was making dinner for my family.” Tashok explains. “Did you need anything?”

“Well, I was hoping to give you this staff…” Phinis gestures to the staff. “It was… For the previous apprentices… Intended to be given to the best in their group as a reward for their hard work.”

He hands her the staff, and continues before Tashom can say anything more.

“It's the least I can do for your help in putting this matter to rest.” his eyes widen at his choice of words. “Oh dear, I didn't mean to say it like that. That wasn't a joke, really.”

“I understand.” Tashok holds back a dry chuckle. “I’m… not really one for staves.”

She looks at the staff, considering it.

“Oh, I know!” she smiles. “I know who could have this.”

“Ah, excellent.” Phinis visibly relaxes. “I trust your judgement, Arch-Mage.”

The words, while well-intended, send a jolt of unease through Tashok’s body as she watches her Conjuration mentor walk away. She grips the staff a bit tighter, and unwittingly, Lucia’s hand as well.

“Mama?” Lucia’s voice brings her mind back into focus.

“Yes, dear?” she smiles at the small blonde.

“I think dinner might be ready by now.”

“Right!” Tashok mentally curses herself for losing track of time. “Let’s go find the others and eat then…”

After rounding up the children and answering their questions directed towards her new staff, she places the staff against the wall carefully and eats with them in the kitchen. None of them bother bringing the food to one of the many tables, instead opting to eat right in the kitchens.

“Hey Lucia, we’re gonna keep playing our game after.” Ma’isha says between two bites. “Wanna join?”

Lucia starts, looking between her siblings silently, before swallowing and giving them a small nod.

“Oh great! We can make teams!” Alessan smiles. “You can team up with me!”

“O…Okay.” Lucia returns his smile shyly.

They disappear around a corner of the hall of Attainment, giggles fading as they echo in the corridors while Tashok herself begins her search for Orthorn. She looks around a few of the rooms, but quickly leaves once she sees they’re empty.

She finally finds him hunched over a book in the corner of the Arcaneum, with Urag eyeing him from his behind his desk. Seems Urag is still unhappy with Orthorn absconding with some of the books a few months ago.

“Hey, Orthorn?” she takes the seat opposite to him.

“Huh?” he startles a bit, glancing at her before relaxing slightly. “Oh, yes, Tashok?”

Tashok can’t help but smile at the use of her name rather than her title. She was hoping, after all, that Orthorn would feel more at ease around her eventually.

“Hope I’m not interrupting anything too intense.” she glances at the volumes surrounding him. She grins, curious. “Alchemy?”

“I figured I should start learning more.” Orthorn explains sheepishly. “Since I’m going to be helping you and all that… If you still want my help that is!”

“That’s…” Tashok takes a few seconds to find the right word. Touching? No. “Thoughtful. I appreciate that. And I’ll take your help so long as you’re offering.”

“Good! That’s good.” Orthorn lets out a shaky breath, laughing nervously. “So… Erm… You wanted to speak to me?”

“Mh? Oh! Yes I did!”

Tashok shuffles a bit in her seat, bringing the staff into view. She hands it to Orthorn, who takes it with a slight quirk of his eyebrow.

“What’s this?” he asks as he inspects it.

“It was… Gonna be for one of the apprentices.” Tashok explains, her voice low. The subject is still sore for them all.

“I… See.” Orthorn deflates a bit, running his hand over the staff thoughtfully.

“I thought you should have it.”

“M-me?!” Orthorn blinks at her. “But… why?”

“It’s… Well…” Tashok thinks to herself. “You helped me find them closure. They were your group too… It just feels right, you know?”

Orthorn stays silent for a few seconds, staring at the staff, and Tashok’s unease grows more and more as the silence stretches on. Did she make a mistake? Is Orthorn going to feel insulted? Hurt? Then he finally speaks, his expression calm but grateful.

“Thank you.” he says.

“You’re welcome…” she gives him a small smile. “I think I’ll catch up on some Restoration theory while I’m here… Let me know if you have questions. About alchemy, I mean.”

Orthorn nods to her and with that she goes to collect some blank parchment before approaching Urag for some recommendations. How he manages to remember and oversee all the books in here is a wonder and a talent in of itself.

Tashok has never been very good at keeping track of time, but it can’t have been more than an hour of her reading and taking notes before J’Zargo strides in and comes to stand next to her.

“We were looking for you.” he says, pausing a second to look at Orthorn. “You as well.”

“You were?” Orthorn glances at Tashok, questioning. She returns his silent inquiry with a shrug and turns to J’Zargo.

“What for?” she asks her friend.

“Onmund did suggest an outing to the inn last did he not?” J’Zargo grins. “J’Zargo thinks that perhaps tomorrow would be a good day to go. Especially considering your habit of getting into trouble…”

“I don’t get in trouble!” Tashok protests, though a smile tugs at her lips.

J’Zargo’s grin only widens as he quirks his eyebrow at her.

“I just… keep running into things that need fixing!” Tashok continues.

“Same difference.” J’Zargo waves his hand dismissively. “Regardless, let us spend time together before you find more things in need of fixing, my friend.”

“Fine, fine. Tomorrow evening it is…” Tashok sighs exaggeratedly. “But don’t think this means I agree with you!”

“That does not matter to J’Zargo. Now, what about you Orthorn? Are you coming with us?”

“I… Are you sure?” Orthorn looks uncertain. “I don’t want to intrude…”

“It isn’t intruding if we invite you.”

Orthorn seems hesitant, and so Tashok takes it upon herself to encourage him.

“I think it’d be fun!” she says. “It’ll be a nice change of pace from College business.”

“Erm… Very well.”

“Perfect! I’ll let Inigo know…” Tashok looks down at her robes. “Should I wear something else?”

“J’Zargo will be slipping into something more comfortable himself.” J’Zargo shrugs. “These robes are quite nice but they can get a bit heavy.”

“Spoken like someone who’s never worn armour, clearly.” Tashok snorts.

“Oh, quiet you…” J’Zargo smirks.

* * *

The next evening, their group of six is laughing full-heartedly as they recount a variety of stories, some from their time at the College and others from long ago.

“And, Colette’s been trying to get me to take some lessons in restoration!” Brelyna tops of her rant before taking a generous sip from her wine. The apprentices, and former-apprentice-now-Arch-Mage-though-still-an-apprentice along with Inigo are seated at the largest table they could find in the Frozen Hearth, listening as intently as possible. “I don’t mean to be disrespectful but I’m not really interested in Restoration magic…”

“You’re telling me… She must have asked me at least once a week…” Onmund sighs as he pours himself more mead. “What about you, J’Zargo?”

“J’Zargo has made it quite clear that Restoration is not something he will consider until Destruction is mastered.” J’Zargo leans on the table. “I have priorities.”

The group has been enjoying their evening so far, their faces flushed from the steady intake of alcohol as much as the mirth permeating the air.

“I’d welcome the offer, personally…” Orthorn mumbles into his cup.

“You like Restoration?” Inigo asks. “I know it comes in handy quite a lot when we are in battle.”

“Uh? Well, not particularly… But… Well, most of the mages try and avoid me. They give me the side eye whenever we cross paths, which is pretty often since my room is in the Countenance.”

“It is?” Tashok tilts her head, regretting it as it makes her vision swim. “Ooof…”

“All the rooms in the Attainment are used. Except from the one the Thalmor used to occupy, but that hardly counts as a room. I’d rather deal with the hard stares than stay in there… I’m pretty sure I saw a rat run out of there the other day.”

This gives Tashok pause. She pouts, deep in thought, as she runs through the many rooms available inside the College.

“What about my room?” she says after some mental gymnastics, made harder by the mead she’s been drinking.

“But it’s yours!” Orthorn protests.

“M’not using it…” Tashok shrugs, leaning a bit too much on the table. “I’m barely here anyways… Plus I have that big ol’…. Big ol’ thing above the Arcaneum now.”

“I couldn’t…”

“Sure you could.” Onmund chimes in, elbowing him with a grin. “Like Tash said: she’s got the Arch-Mage quarters now. She’d just need to take her things out and blam!, room’s ready. You’d be closer to us.”

Meanwhile, Tashok is nodding excessively through the entirety of Onmund’s suggestion. Until she takes in the meaning of all the words.

“Wait… Take out my things?” she turns to Onmund. “Do I still have things in there?”

“A few.” Brelyna answers.

“I’m so sorry! I didn’t realize…” Tashok buries her face into her hands, embarrassed. “I’ll get to it tomorrow.”

“If you are not too hungover…” J’Zargo eyes the three empty mead bottles lined behind Tashok with a smirk.

“I’ll be fine…” Tashok waves her hand dismissively. “M’an Orc!”

Tashok notes with a bag of mixed emotions that she’s begun pointing out this — rather obvious — fact much more ever since she came to Skyrim. And usually in a positive manner.

This realization ends up prompting a few giggles from her. Which grow slowly into a genuine laughter.

“Something funny?” Brelyna grins at Tashok’s joy, leaning lazily onto her hand.

“Uh… Kinda?” Tashok takes another sip, forcing herself to settle down.

“Do share…” J’Zargo urges her after a few seconds of silence. “The curiosity is killing this one.”

“Oh nothing, it’s kinda stupid…” Tashok informs them.

The three original apprentices groan in frustration. Tashok says many things on the scale of ‘stupid’ or ‘silly’, though she rarely gets embarrassed or hesitant about it. More often than not, the few things she does consider inconsequential or silly end up being personal and meaningful to her, despite her attempts at minimizing this.

“Come on, you can’t leave us hanging!” Brelyna presses with a grin.

“I admit I’m now curious as well, Arch-Mage.” Orthorn says quietly.

“Oh, please don’t call me that…” Tashok groans. “It’s…s… So much responsibility… I don’t feel like an Arch-Mage. I feel like an apprentice, like all of you…”

“If it makes you feel better, J’Zargo still sees you as a fellow apprentice.” J’Zargo nudges her gently with his elbow.

“Of course you do.” Onmund rolls his eyes as Tashok replies: “Thank you!”

This causes the table to erupt in laughter, despite the situation not exactly being all that funny. At least, not funny enough to warrant this strong of a reaction.

“Don’t think this lets you off…” Inigo tells Tashok. “Go on, my friend, tell us what had you laughing earlier.”

“Oh, right!” Tashok smacks herself on the forehead. “It was… Uh… It. Mh…”

“You forgot, didn’t you?”

“Um… Maybe?” Tashok sinks into her scarf timidly.

“Bah, it happens to the best of us.” J’Zargo says, waving it off. “It must not have been very important for you to forget it this quickly.”

Tashok glances at her mead, her peripheral vision shifting slowly as she focusses on the label. “Maybe I should slow down…” she mumbles to herself.

“Now where’s the fun in that?” Onmund chuckles. “It’s not like dragons are going to come attack the College… You can relax.”

Tashok looks to the side guiltily, still unsure about how much would be responsible for her to drink. Before she would have worried about falling off the bridge in this case, but luckily they had repaired it along with the majority of Winterhold. Well, perhaps not repaired, but rendered into something safer and more respectable at least. Tashok is quite convinced that they would need the talents of a terraformer to be able to truly restore the bridge.

“I think you’re doing a pretty good job so far.” Orthorn speaks up. “M'mean… you managed to make all the potions on the list, and then some.” he starts counting on his fingers as he lists off her daily accomplishments. “You also spent, oh I don’t know, almost all your afternoon talking with Tolfdir and making decisions. I seen you more out and about in the, uh, the short time you’ve been Arch-Mage than I ever did Arch-Mage Aren.”

Tashok throws a furtive glance to the rest of her mead before quickly chugging it.

“Alright!” she grins.

“That’s the spirit!” Inigo cheers.

“Is mead really a spirit?” Brelyna asks.

“No… It’s probably like… Ale?” Onmund scratches his head.

“Mh… Perhaps it is wine?” J’Zargo suggests.

“How would it be wine?” Tashok asks, mostly to herself. “M’not sure how i’ss made but I’m pretty sure t’s’like… Honey? Is honey a fruit. Wait no, it’s not. Or is it?”

“Our resident alchemist.” Onmund teases fondly.

“Look, m’not thinking like normal…” Tashok pouts. “B’side. Not like I spend a lot of time thinkin’ about honey. It’s tasty, that’s all I need to know.”

“You can make so much good food with honey…” Onmund smiles wistfully. “D’any of you cook?”

The majority of the group shake their heads or shrug, except for Tashok who practically leaps from her seat.

“I do! I love cooking! Just d’y’other day I made a jazbay grape and juniper berry tart!” Tashok motions wildly with her hands. “It doesn’t do anything alchemically-speaking, just tastes real nice.”

“That’s exactly what a tart should be.” Inigo nods to himself.

“Then again…” Tashok gets an idea. “I kinda wonder if I could… I mean… Uh…” she frowns, having lost her stream of thought. She gasps as it comes back as soon as it had left. “I could start using alchemy ingredients in reg’lar food… Oh! I’m getting excited just thinking about it! It’ll be so fun!”

“If anything works out, lemme have a try, will you?” Onmund says.

“Sure! I’m always looking for people to try what I come up with.” Tashok smiles, before looking bashful as her ears drop backwards. “I’m honestly surprised you like what I make so much…”

“Why wouldn’t we? The warmth balm is a must up here…” Brelyna says.

“I suppose… Beggar’s can’t be choosers, right?” Tashok laughs.

“Beggars?” J’Zargo’s eyebrow quirks. “How so?”

“I mean, ‘m the only one who makes it ‘round here. Pretty sure if you had some from the High Rock alchemists you’d choose that in… well, right away… They’re really talented over there. I was real lucky I got to learn from a Breton… Well, lucky that he even took me on really.”

“Is becoming an apprentice that hard over there?” Orthorn asks.

“Oh yeah!” Tashok leans against the table. “The nobles’re always pushing each other around to get the best tutors and recommendations to the Academy…” she waves her hand around. “That’s, y’know, magic… Everyone learns a little from just livin’ in High Rock. Even I learned spells like Candlelight and Healing, Warmth, Cold and whatnot. Pretty basic. For things like alchemy and enchanting it’s like… still hard but not impossible if you’re a commoner.”

“M’not surprised you got the apprenticeship.” Brelyna smiles. “You’re real good at making potions.”

“Eh… M’alright.” Tashok looks into her cup. “Could be better. Only reason I manage is ‘cause I like it so much. I’m sure my old master’s new student’s doing way better than I ever did.”

“Doubtful.” Inigo says. “Your healing potions are incredibly potent.”

Tasho lets out a small, choked laugh.

“D'your old master send a recommendation to the College for you?” Onmund swirls his mead. “I don’t recall you mentioning anything.”

“Ghuh-ah! No…” Tashok splutters. “No, I came here by myself.”

“Well, he should’ve at least given you a letter of recommendation.” Brelyna huffs.

Tashok drinks a long sip nervously as the conversation steers into uncomfortable territory. Master Ancald would never recommend her to anyone, much less the College of Winterhold.

“Are you alright Ar-Tashok?” Orthorn frowns in concern.

“I didn’t leave on good terms.” Tashok pouts. “I did something stupid, had to leave.”

A terse silence settles across the table, until Onmund offers her a sympathetic smile.

“Well, whatever it was, 'm glad you came here.” he says. “I know you wanna just forget about it, but the Eye of Magnus problem proves you more than earned your place in ‘ere.”

“Well… Glad to be of use.” Tashok blushes.

She suddenly starts, opening her notebook quickly and scribbling barely legible words down.

“Crap!” she says as she eyes the used up dishes on the table.

“Er… What are you doing?” Onmund asks.

“Noting m’food…” Tashok explains. “For the past couple of months, I’ve been getting more tired and hungry than usual… I asked Colette about it, and she couldn’t find anything wrong with me. Well, ‘sides my shoulder still being stiff… She wants me to write down what I eat for a month, try and see if it’s because o’ what I eat.”

“Maybe it’s because of how little you eat.” Inigo suggests.

“What? I eat just fine…” Tashok pouts.

“I only ever see you eat one meal a day, with occasional quick snacks. That is not enough.”

“Meh… It’s enough for me.” she shrugs as she finishes another bottle. “Oh dear… Standing up’s going to be a problem, I think.”

* * *

It was in fact a problem. For all of them.

Orthorn fared a bit more easily, having drank much less, but being unused to drinking in general, is still feeling the effects of the alcohol.

The five of them stumble out off the bridge and into the courtyard, occasionally giggling as they bump into one another. Orthorn goes to slink into the Hall of Countenance, fretting over how he’s going to manage to get up the steps and into his room without disturbing the other College members, when he feels a tug at his sleeve.

“Y’know y’can just sleep in my old room, right?” Tashok says. “Pretty sure I washed the sheets before I left last time.”

“Hey! Good idea!” Brelyna grins. “T’be a little tricky, climbing up those stairs…”

“I know I am not looking forward to it.” Inigo nudges Tashok. “Luckily we can rely on each other, no?”

“The drunk leading the drunk!” she giggles.

“I am not that drunk my friend.” Inigo points out. “Just enough to be pleasantly fuzzy. I have sworn off heavy drinking.”

Brelyna, Onmund and J’Zargo lead Orthorn to the Hall of Attainment while Tashok and Inigo support each other, stumbling towards the Arch-Mage’s quarters.

“M’glad I went out today.” Tashok leans into Inigo.

“I am too, my friend…” Inigo looks to her fondly.

The affection in his face sends an unwelcome pang of frigid guilt. With the alcohol coursing through her, nothing stops the guilt from practically pouring out into her expression.

“Wh-what’s wrong?” Inigo stops walking, taken aback by Tashok’s unfiltered heartache. “My friend!”

“I… I should sit…” Tashok immediately sinks into the nearby bench, thankful for the emptiness of the Hall of the Elements.

Inigo sits by her quietly, hands outreached, ready to comfort.

Funny how a bad situation can sober one right up.

“I just…” Tashok starts but chokes up.

“You can tell me…” Inigo assures her.

Tashok glances about to ensure they are in fact, alone.

“We… We need to talk about who you think I am.” she says as she stares vehemently at a brick on the floor, unwilling to face his expression.

The silence that follows is so thick that Tashok can feel it crushing her. Inigo’s breath catches and stills for so long that Tashok ends up glancing to the side just to make sure he was still alive.

He swallows loudly.

“Yes. I suppose it is inevitable.” he says flatly.

Tashok simply nods, biting her lip.

“Inigo…” she clenches her eyes shut. “I’ve been in High Rock for my whole life. I met Lucien a week after being here… The person you shot wasn’t me.”

“I know…” Inigo sounds mournful. “When you first denied our past in my cell, I did not believe you. Now I know better.”

Tashok flinches at the words, but allows him to continue. She owes him this much.

“I am sorry. I have misled you and myself.” if Tashok knew better, she’d say Inigo sounds self-admonishing. As if this is on him. “Our time together began with a lie. I am glad it is ending with the truth.”

Hearing the words she so dreaded ends up pushing Tashok over the edge. She hugs herself as she forces her tears to be as silent as possible.

Inigo for his part, feels even more ashamed as he sees the Orc shake as she tries to contain her sobs. He reaches towards her instinctively but stops short, convinced his comfort and friendship is no longer welcomed.

“I will bother you no longer.” he says, preparing himself for the inevitable walk of shame to the Frozen Hearth. “For what it is worth: thank you. We had some fun times, you and I.”

“Thank you?” Tashok gasps for air as she finally looks to him. “For what? I’ve been the worst friend!”

“Do not say such things about yourself my f- Tashok.” Inigo’s ears droop down even farther than before. “I should go, before I make things worse. Goodbye.”

He goes to stand but Tashok quickly takes his wrist.

“Wait!” she sniffs loudly. “Lucien said I need to talk to you about us!”

“Oh, Lucien…” Inigo sighs. He’s going to miss the cheerful Imperial as well.

“B’side. You can’t just go off into the night, it’s too cold.” Tashok urges him to sit, and Inigo can do nothing but comply. He owes her that much. “I think we should talk about… I don’t want to leave it like this.”

“There is nothing to talk about!” Inigo twists away, almost out of Tashok’s grip. “Langley was right.” his voice wavers and breaks as he says the next words. “I am crazy, my mind is broken!”

“Don’t say that. You’ve been through so much…” Tashok brings his gripped hand to into hers. “Don’t be so harsh on yourself. You’re incredible.”

“I have been living a lie and worse,” Inigo looks down at his hand, cupped between hers and is torn between wanting to pull away from the affection by virtue of being undeserving and wanting to soak up the last bit of his friend’s warmth. He looks into her eyes guiltily. “I have drawing you into it also…” he looks down and away with shame. “I am not worthy of your time.”

“What? No. I’m not worthy of yours!” Tashok’s grip tightens. “I’m the one who used you! I should’ve insisted we talk about this sooner… But I was selfish. I wanted your friendship, and I let you tell yourself I was someone important.” now it’s her turn to look away as she speaks with a voice barely above a whisper. “But I’m not…”

She takes a deep breath as Inigo opens his mouth, shocked.

“Okay. Lucien can’t fault me for not listening to him.” she looks to Inigo with determination. “Inigo.”

“Yes?” he gulps.

“I care about you. So much!” she unconsciously draws his hand closer to her chest. “I know I should’ve told you I’m not the friend I thought you were. I wish I was. I wish I could be the friend you deserve because, well, because you’re _my_ friend. Lies or not… My feelings towards you are real.”

Inigo gapes at her. It’s at this point she realizes she’s taken his hand hostage and immediately sets it down towards him.

“Sorry…” she pouts, looking away. “You’re my friend. I just wish I could’ve been yours.”

“…What did you just call me?” Inigo’s voice sounds hopeful.

“M-my friend?” Tashok tilts her head. “That’s what you are to me, Inigo.”

“Do you really mean it?” Inigo asks. He needs to hear this, without any nuance or room for interpretation. “I will not hold it against you if you do not.”

“Of course I mean it…” Tashok breathes out.

“Thank you.” the corner of Inigo’s eyes crinkle as he smiles. “That means more than you know… I honestly though we had a past together but as time went by I did begin to doubt myself.”

“So you’re not mad at me?”

Inigo huffs. Mad? At her? Why on Nirn would he be mad at Tashok, who has been nothing but supportive ever since they’ve met.

“Of course not!” he laughs dryly, without mirth. “Why would I ever be mad at you?”

“I just… I feel like I used you.” Tashok’s face falls with guilt. “I let you think you owed me something… It doesn’t matter if you had fun, it’s still wrong.”

“You told me who you were at every occasion you got. I continued to delude myself. That is on me, not you.” Inigo argues. “It was so easy… You are so similar to the person I once knew. You even smell the same… in a good way.”

This manages to make Tashok let out a quick giggle.

“I think… deep down I knew my old friend was dead.” Inigo closes his eyes in pain. “When I heard about you, wishful thinking became hope, then hope became need.”

He glances to her and decides to reach out for her hand, as she had done a few moments prior. He did it partially to reassure her that he was indeed not mad at her, but also to help ground himself.

 _Even now you rely on her…_ an unpleasant part of his mind hisses, though he buries it quickly.

“I…” he takes a deep breath. The small added pressure from Tashok’s soft grip urges him on. “I needed to believe forgiveness was possible, and if not forgiveness… redemption in death. I deceived myself. It was selfish of me.”

“It was selfish of me to let you think I was someone else…” Tashok interjects.

“You did not. Do not berate yourself over this. I was the one to carry on the deception.”

Tashok grows silent for a moment before letting out a weak, wet laugh. She smiles as she wipes her cheek.

“We’re both idiots…” she chuckles. “Maybe we should… Try to be as honest as possible from now on? No more hiding things or assuming. Just… If something is on your mind, you tell me. And I’ll tell you everything.”

“Yes. Agreed. Thank you, my friend.” Inigo also smiles. “I still have much to live for because of you.”

Tashok glances at their joined hands and lets out something between a laugh and a sob once more.

“M’glad we’re friends.” she says.

“I am still in your debt.” Inigo says, lifting his hand to stop Tashok from interjecting. “No, it is true. _You_ gave me a reason to go on, _you_ made me face my past, and now _you_ are helping me come to terms with what I have done. I will follow you to Oblivion and back if need be.”

“I’m sure it won’t come to anything like that.” Tashok says. “Labyrinthian was enough for me. No more spooky places for this Orc, nope.”

Inigo gives her a sad smile as a thought pushes forth.

“I did not mean to lie to you…” his ears droop. “Or myself.”

“…I know.”

“I am ashamed. I hope in time I will be able to earn your forgiveness… In the end, I hope our friendship and future adventures will prove more important than how we met.”

“It already is.” Tashok tells him earnestly.

He falls quiet, before giving her a shy grin.

“We are a fantastic team you and I.” he says.

“There’s no need for me to forgive anything.” Tashok assures him. “I know this means a lot you you, though, so… I forgive you, Inigo. For anything and everything.”

“You are very kind. It is a beautiful gesture but my debt to you stands.” Inigo says. “I have not come near to earning forgiveness yet.” he adds as he sees Tashok’s face souring at the mention of a debt. “Your words bring me joy, but I do not deserve them.”

“I think you do.”

“I wish it were that simple, but alas, it is not.” Inigo sighs. “I am happy you do not hold my confusion about our past against me, but I cannot say the same.”

Tashok’s stomach drops for a moment, before she realizes he’s referring to himself, rather than alluding to any misgivings on her part.

“Also…” he continues, his expression overflowing with regret. “The person I thought you were is dead because of me. Yet another casualty of my former life. I will know when I am ready to move on, but for now the guilt I bear still weighs down my heart. Maybe that guilt will be there for the rest of my life. I have a feeling that I am the only one who can let it go.”

“Well, I’ll be by your side no matter what, my friend.” Tashok tightens her grip on his hand for emphasis.

Inigo swallows loudly, composing himself.

“You calling me friend means the world to me. I am honoured. You have given me a reason to go on… A whole new life… A chance at happiness.” he whispers the last part. “If all goes well, maybe one day I will be at peace with who I am. If that happens it will be because of you also.”

Tashok gives him an encouraging smile.

“You cannot remove the guilt but you have given me hope.” he tries to mirror her smile, though his is still shadowed by sorrow. “I must do the rest.”

“Yeah… I get it. I do.” Tashok assures him, nodding shakily.

“You words lighten my soul, but as far as my heart is concerned, I still have much to repay.”

“I… I hope your heart’ll recognize redemption when you find it.”

“Yes. I believe it will. I must continue to readdress my life’s balance.” he huffs, smiling much more peacefully now, looking into the distance. “I can feel a shift already.”

“Good.” Tashok whispers. She pauses, taking in the heavy silence of the night. “Let’s go to sleep, friend.”

“Good idea.”

Tashok allows him to help her up, the alcohol in her system still affecting her movements. A thought strikes her as she climbs up the steps, hand outstretched to keep her steady against the wall.

“You said I have the same smell as your… other friend?” Tashok asks in a hushed voice. “What… do I smell like?”

“That is… Hard to describe.” Inigo chuckles. Tashok relaxes when she sees her mention of Inigo’s former friend hasn’t made him feel guilty all over again. “It is… well, its is you!” he pauses, thinking. “There’s this faint smell of, well, alchemy I suppose. You have a little bit of a smell that reminds me of the alchemy room in here. Like… Green tea that’s was left on the stove for too long and has become very astringent.”

“Oh… That doesn’t sound all that good.”

“It is not unpleasant, and most definitely not the strongest scent on you. It is simply part of how you smell. You also have a smell that is uniquely you. That one I’m afraid I cannot describe, apart from the fact it is your own. There’s also a bit of a floral smell, though that one has become fainter in the past few weeks.”

“Oh, that’d be my lavender soap!” Tashok points out. “I’m running out… That’s probably why you’ve smelled it less.”

“That would explain it!” Inigo chuckles. He smiles wistfully. “… You know, we have had many adventures, my friend, but I will never forget one particular fight… I had been in my cell for quite a while and it was more excitement than I was used to. As we fought side by side, I became more aware that a new positive force was at work in my life. Despite the smell, fear, and general sense of unease, I knew that I would always remember that moment fondly.”

This pulls a wide smile from Tash as she pushes the door to her quarters open.

“We were magnificent together.” Inigo says in a lower voice as to not wake the children up. “When the battle was done and we stood victorious I knew I was walking a better path… Thank you for helping me unlock my potential, and for giving my heart and soul a second chance.”

“I know you’ll be great. You already are.” Tashok brings him into a hug. “Goodnight, Inigo.”

“Goodnight my friend.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> About time I finished this arc!!... What a year, uh?

**Author's Note:**

> You guys also got to see more of my extra NPCs for Winterhold. I won't have all of them named or even make an appearance, but for the sake of, uh, realism (??) assume that even the small villages have a good amount of citizens instead of being the empty, kinda unrealistically so, holds. There's more people needed to make society function than the vanilla NPCs, y'know?
> 
> So far we have:  
> Magnar (the smith) - he tolerates magic because enchantments are a lifesaver (or lifetaker, depends on the enchantment)  
> Sonja (as seen in Living in Skyrim) - the daughter of the tanner/butcher and Magnar's niece. She would like to study magic but really can't stand living in Winterhold  
> Enid - elderly woman who doesn't trust the mages but sure likes the convenience of an alchemist and enchantments  
> Dinah - her (also elderly) wife who is much more tolerating of magic and thinks it's interesting ("Enid darling! She just made a light! Imagine how nice that would be, not to need to carry a candle around in the dark!")


End file.
